Поворот винта
Chapter 19
WhatsheandIhadvirtuallysaidtoeachotherwasthatpretextswereuselessnow.WhenMrs.Grosefinallygotupshekeptthechild’shand,sothatthetwowerestillbeforeme;andthesingularreticenceofourcommunionwasevenmoremarkedinthefranklookshelaunchedme.“I’llbehanged,”itsaid,“ifI’llspeak!”
ItwasFlorawho,gazingallovermeincandidwonder,wasthefirst.Shewasstruckwithourbareheadedaspect.“Why,whereareyourthings?”
“Whereyoursare,mydear!”Ipromptlyreturned.
Shehadalreadygotbackhergaiety,andappearedtotakethisasananswerquitesufficient.“Andwhere’sMiles?”shewenton.
Therewassomethinginthesmallvalorofitthatquitefinishedme:thesethreewordsfromherwere,inaflashliketheglitterofadrawnblade,thejostleofthecupthatmyhand,forweeksandweeks,hadheldhighandfulltothebrimthatnow,evenbeforespeaking,Ifeltoverflowinadeluge.“I’lltellyouifyou’lltellme—”Iheardmyselfsay,thenheardthetremorinwhichitbroke.
“Well,what?”
Mrs.Grose’ssuspenseblazedatme,butitwastoolatenow,andIbroughtthethingouthandsomely.“Where,mypet,isMissJessel?”