I made her turn pale. "Intention?"

"To get hold of her." Mrs. Grose--her eyes just lingering
on mine--gave a shudder and walked to the window;
and while she stood there looking out I completed my statement.
"THAT'S what Flora knows."

After a little she turned round. "The person was in black, you say?"

"In mourning--rather poor, almost shabby. But--yes--with
extraordinary beauty." I now recognized to what I had at last,
stroke by stroke, brought the victim of my confidence, for she quite
visibly weighed this. "Oh, handsome--very, very," I insisted;
"wonderfully handsome. But infamous."

She slowly came back to me. "Miss Jessel--WAS infamous."
She once more took my hand in both her own, holding it
as tight as if to fortify me against the increase of alarm I
might draw from this disclosure. "They were both infamous,"
she finally said.

So, for a little, we faced it once more together; and I found absolutely
a degree of help in seeing it now so straight. "I appreciate,"
I said, "the great decency of your not having hitherto spoken;
but the time has certainly come to give me the whole thing."
She appeared to assent to this, but still only in silence;
seeing which I went on: "I must have it now. Of what did she die?
Come, there was something between them."

"There was everything."