"In spite of the difference--?"

"Oh, of their rank, their condition"--she brought it woefully out.
"SHE was a lady."

I turned it over; I again saw. "Yes--she was a lady."

"And he so dreadfully below," said Mrs. Grose.

I felt that I doubtless needn't press too hard, in such company,
on the place of a servant in the scale; but there was nothing to prevent
an acceptance of my companion's own measure of my predecessor's abasement.
There was a way to deal with that, and I dealt; the more readily
for my full vision--on the evidence--of our employer's late clever,
good-looking "own" man; impudent, assured, spoiled, depraved.
"The fellow was a hound."

Mrs. Grose considered as if it were perhaps a little a case
for a sense of shades. "I've never seen one like him.
He did what he wished."

"With HER?"

"With them all."

It was as if now in my friend's own eyes Miss Jessel had again appeared.
I seemed at any rate, for an instant, to see their evocation of her as
distinctly as I had seen her by the pond; and I brought out with decision:
"It must have been also what SHE wished!"