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Chapter 7

           Groseforamomentcollapsed,yetpresentlytopullherselftogetheragain,asiffromthepositiveforceofthesenseofwhat,shouldweyieldaninch,therewouldreallybetogivewayto.“Dear,dearwemustkeepourheads!Andafterall,ifshedoesn’tmindit!”Sheeventriedagrimjoke.“Perhapsshelikesit!”

           “Likessuchthingsascrapofaninfant!”

           “Isn’titjustaproofofherblessedinnocence?”myfriendbravelyinquired.

           Shebroughtme,fortheinstant,almostround.“Oh,wemustclutchatthatwemustclingtoit!Ifitisn’taproofofwhatyousay,it’saproofofGodknowswhat!Forthewoman’sahorrorofhorrors.”

           Mrs.Grose,atthis,fixedhereyesaminuteontheground;thenatlastraisingthem,“Tellmehowyouknow,”shesaid.

           “Thenyouadmitit’swhatshewas?”Icried.

           “Tellmehowyouknow,”myfriendsimplyrepeated.

           “Know?Byseeingher!Bythewayshelooked.”

           “Atyou,doyoumeansowickedly?”

           “Dearme,noIcouldhavebornethat.Shegavemeneveraglance.Sheonlyfixedthechild.”

           Mrs.Grosetriedtoseeit.“Fixedher?”

           “Ah,withsuchawfuleyes!”

           Shestaredatmineasiftheymightreallyhaveresembledthem.“Doyoumeanofdislike?”

           “Godhelpus,no.Ofsomethingmuchworse.”

           “Worsethandislike?”thisleftherindeedataloss.

           “Withadeterminationindescribable.Withakindoffuryofintention.”

           Imadeherturnpale.“Intention?”

           “Togetholdofher.”Mrs.

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