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The Turn of the Screw
Ifthechildgivestheeffectanotherturnofthescrew,whatdoyousaytotwochildren—?”
“Wesay,ofcourse,”somebodyexclaimed,“thattheygivetwoturns!Alsothatwewanttohearaboutthem.”
IcanseeDouglastherebeforethefire,towhichhehadgotuptopresenthisback,lookingdownathisinterlocutorwithhishandsinhispockets.“Nobodybutme,tillnow,haseverheard.It’squitetoohorrible.”This,naturally,wasdeclaredbyseveralvoicestogivethethingtheutmostprice,andourfriend,withquietart,preparedhistriumphbyturninghiseyesovertherestofusandgoingon:“It’sbeyondeverything.NothingatallthatIknowtouchesit.”
“Forsheerterror?”Irememberasking.
Heseemedtosayitwasnotsosimpleasthat;tobereallyatalosshowtoqualifyit.Hepassedhishandoverhiseyes,madealittlewincinggrimace.“Fordreadful—dreadfulness!”
“Oh,howdelicious!”criedoneofthewomen.
Hetooknonoticeofher;helookedatme,butasif,insteadofme,hesawwhathespokeof.“Forgeneraluncannyuglinessandhorrorandpain.”
“Wellthen,”Isaid,“justsitrightdownandbegin.”
Heturnedroundtothefire,gaveakicktoalog,watcheditaninstant.Thenashefacedusagain:“Ican’tbegin.Ishallhavetosendtotown.”Therewasaunanimousgroanatthis,andmuchreproach;afterwhich,inhispreoccupiedway,heexplained.“Thestory’swritten.It’sinalockeddrawer—ithasnotbeenoutforyears.
