familiarity with anything so dreadful—a single other word about Miss Jessel?”
“Not one, Miss. And of course you know,” my friend added, “I took it from her, by the lake, that, just then and there at least, there was nobody.”
“Rather! and, naturally, you take it from her still.”
“I don’t contradict her. What else can I do?”
“Nothing in the world! You’ve the cleverest little person to deal with. They’ve made them—their two friends, I mean—still cleverer even than nature did; for it was wondrous material to play on! Flora has now her grievance, and she’ll work it to the end.”
“Yes, Miss; but to what end?”
“Why, that of dealing with me to her uncle. She’ll make me out to him the lowest creature———!”
I winced at the fair show of the scene in Mrs. Grose’s face; she looked for a minute as if she sharply saw them together. “And him who thinks so well of you!”
“He has an odd way—it comes over me now,” I laughed, “—of proving it! But that doesn’t matter. What Flora wants, of course, is to get rid of me.”
