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- Генри Джеймс
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"
The
story
wo
n't
tell
,
"
said
Douglas
;
"
not
in
any
literal
,
vulgar
way
.
"
"
More
's
the
pity
,
then
.
That
's
the
only
way
I
ever
understand
.
"
"
Wo
n't
you
tell
,
Douglas
?
"
somebody
else
inquired
.
He
sprang
to
his
feet
again
.
"
Yes
--
tomorrow
.
Now
I
must
go
to
bed
.
Good
night
.
"
And
quickly
catching
up
a
candlestick
,
he
left
us
slightly
bewildered
.
From
our
end
of
the
great
brown
hall
we
heard
his
step
on
the
stair
;
whereupon
Mrs.
Griffin
spoke
.
"
Well
,
if
I
do
n't
know
who
she
was
in
love
with
,
I
know
who
he
was
.
"
"
She
was
ten
years
older
,
"
said
her
husband
.
"
Raison
de
plus
--
at
that
age
!
But
it
's
rather
nice
,
his
long
reticence
.
"
"
Forty
years
!
"
Griffin
put
in
.
"
With
this
outbreak
at
last
.
"
"
The
outbreak
,
"
I
returned
,
"
will
make
a
tremendous
occasion
of
Thursday
night
;
"
and
everyone
so
agreed
with
me
that
,
in
the
light
of
it
,
we
lost
all
attention
for
everything
else
.
The
last
story
,
however
incomplete
and
like
the
mere
opening
of
a
serial
,
had
been
told
;
we
handshook
and
"
candlestuck
,
"
as
somebody
said
,
and
went
to
bed
.
I
knew
the
next
day
that
a
letter
containing
the
key
had
,
by
the
first
post
,
gone
off
to
his
London
apartments
;
but
in
spite
of
--
or
perhaps
just
on
account
of
--
the
eventual
diffusion
of
this
knowledge
we
quite
let
him
alone
till
after
dinner
,
till
such
an
hour
of
the
evening
,
in
fact
,
as
might
best
accord
with
the
kind
of
emotion
on
which
our
hopes
were
fixed
.
