" "Do what?" "Think me--for a change--BAD!" I shall never forget the sweetness and gaiety with which he brought out the word, nor how, on top of it, he bent forward and kissed me. "Quint?" "Peter Quint--his own man, his valet, when he was here!" "When the master was?" Gaping still, but meeting me, she pieced it all together. In the middle of the vestry a young jesuit, who was then on a visit to the college, stood rocking himself rhythmically from the tips of his toes to his heels and back again, his hands thrust well forward into his side-pockets. He was listening with pain of spirit to the overtone of weariness behind their frail fresh innocent voices.
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