As soon as I could compass a private word with Mrs. Grose I declared
to her that it was grotesque.
She promptly understood me. "You mean the cruel charge--?"
"It doesn't live an instant. My dear woman, LOOK at him!"
She smiled at my pretention to have discovered his charm.
"I assure you, miss, I do nothing else! What will you say, then?"
she immediately added.
"In answer to the letter?" I had made up my mind. "Nothing."
"And to his uncle?"
I was incisive. "Nothing."
"And to the boy himself?"
I was wonderful. "Nothing."
She gave with her apron a great wipe to her mouth. "Then I'll stand by you.
We'll see it out."
"We'll see it out!" I ardently echoed, giving her my hand to make
it a vow.
She held me there a moment, then whisked up her apron again with her
detached hand. "Would you mind, miss, if I used the freedom--"
"To kiss me? No!" I took the good creature in my arms and, after we
had embraced like sisters, felt still more fortified and indignant.
This, at all events, was for the time: a time so full that,
as I recall the way it went, it reminds me of all the art
I now need to make it a little distinct. What I look
back at with amazement is the situation I accepted.
I had undertaken, with my companion, to see it out, and I was
under a charm, apparently, that could smooth away the extent
and the far and difficult connections of such an effort.
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