Поворот винта
Chapter 1
WhatIhadundertakenwasthewholecareofher,andshehadremained,justthislasttime,withMrs.Groseonlyasaneffectofourconsiderationformyinevitablestrangenessandhernaturaltimidity.Inspiteofthistimidity—whichthechildherself,intheoddestwayintheworld,hadbeenperfectlyfrankandbraveabout,allowingit,withoutasignofuncomfortableconsciousness,withthedeep,sweetserenityindeedofoneofRaphael’sholyinfants,tobediscussed,tobeimputedtoher,andtodetermineus—Ifeelquitesureshewouldpresentlylikeme.ItwaspartofwhatIalreadylikedMrs.Groseherselffor,thepleasureIcouldseeherfeelinmyadmirationandwonderasIsatatsupperwithfourtallcandlesandwithmypupil,inahighchairandabib,brightlyfacingme,betweenthem,overbreadandmilk.TherewerenaturallythingsthatinFlora’spresencecouldpassbetweenusonlyasprodigiousandgratifiedlooks,obscureandroundaboutallusions.
“Andthelittleboy—doeshelooklikeher?Ishetoosoveryremarkable?”
Onewouldn’tflatterachild.“Oh,miss,mostremarkable.Ifyouthinkwellofthisone!”—andshestoodtherewithaplateinherhand,beamingatourcompanion,wholookedfromoneofustotheotherwithplacidheavenlyeyesthatcontainednothingtocheckus.
“Yes;ifIdo—?”
“Youwillbecarriedawaybythelittlegentleman!”
“Well,that,Ithink,iswhatIcamefor—tobecarriedaway.I’mafraid,however,”Irememberfeelingtheimpulsetoadd,“I’mrathereasilycarriedaway.
