When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy.
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