“Then nobody about the place? Nobody from the village?”
“Nobody—nobody. I didn’t tell you, but I made sure.”
She breathed a vague relief: this was, oddly, so much to the good. It
only went indeed a little way. “But if he isn’t a gentleman—”
“What _is_ he? He’s a horror.”
“A horror?”
“He’s—God help me if I know _what_ he is!”
Mrs. Grose looked round once more; she fixed her eyes on the duskier
distance, then, pulling herself together, turned to me with abrupt
inconsequence. “It’s time we should be at church.”
“Oh, I’m not fit for church!”
“Won’t it do you good?”
“It won’t do _them!_— I nodded at the house.
“The children?”
“I can’t leave them now.”
“You’re afraid—?”