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She had already got back her gaiety, and appeared to take this as an answer quite
sufficient. “And where’s Miles?” she went on.
There was something in the small valor of it that quite finished me: these three words
from her were, in a flash like the glitter of a drawn blade, the jostle of the cup that my
hand, for weeks and weeks, had held high and full to the brim and that now, even
before speaking, I felt overflow in a deluge. “I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me-” I heard
myself say, then heard the tremor in which it broke.
Mrs. Grose’s suspense blazed at me, but it was too late now, and I brought the thing out
handsomely. “Where, my pet, is Miss Jessel?”