Read "Eliza" by Barry Pain online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The ink-pot contained a shallow sediment, with short hairs, grit, and a little moisture in it. It came out on the pen in chunks. When I had spoiled the second postcard, Eliza said I was not to talk like that.
"Very well, then," I said, "why don't you have the ink-pot refilled? I'm not made of postcards, and I hate waste."