The Turn of the Screw

VII

VIII got hold of Mrs. Grose as soon after this as I could; and Ican give no intelligible account of how I fought out the interval.Yet I still hear myself cry as I fairly threw myself into her arms:“They KNOW—it’s too monstrous: they know, theyknow!”

“And what on earth—?” I felt her incredulityas she held me.

“Why, all that WE know—and heaven knows what elsebesides!” Then, as she released me, I made it out to her,made it outperhaps only now with full coherency even to myself.“Two hours ago, in the garden”—I could scarcearticulate—“Flora SAW!”

Mrs. Grose took it as she might have taken a blow in thestomach. “She has told you?” she panted.

“Not a word—that’s the horror. Shekept it toherself! The child of eight, THAT child!” Unutterable still,for me, was the stupefaction of it.

Mrs. Grose