The Turn of the Screw - Henry James
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Mrs. Grose was not too bewildered instinctively to protest. “Ah, how CAN you?” “Because I’m clear. Flora doesn’t want me to know.” “It’s only then to spare you.” “No, no—there are depths, depths! The more I go over it, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I fear. I don’t know what I DON’T see—what I DON’T fear!” Mrs. Grose tried to keep up with me. “You mean you’re afraid of seeing her again?” “Oh, no; that’s nothing—now!” Then I explained. “It’s of NOT seeing her.” But my companion only looked wan. “I don’t understand you.”
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Mrs. Grose was not too bewildered instinctively to protest. “Ah, how CAN you?” “Because I’m clear. Flora doesn’t want me to know.” “It’s only then to spare you.” “No, no—there are depths, depths! The more I go over it, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I fear. I don’t know what I DON’T see—what I DON’T fear!” Mrs. Grose tried to keep up with me. “You mean you’re afraid of seeing her again?” “Oh, no; that’s nothing—now!” Then I explained. “It’s of NOT seeing her.” But my companion only looked wan. “I don’t understand you.”