What it was most impossible to get rid of was the cruel idea that, whatever I had seen, Miles and Flora saw more ⁠—things terrible and unguessable and that sprang from dreadful passages of intercourse in the past. Such things naturally left on the surface, for the time, a chill which we vociferously denied that we felt; and we had, all three, with repetition, got into such splendid training that we went, each time, almost automatically, to mark the close of the incident, through the very same movements. It was striking of the children, at all events, to kiss me inveterately with a kind of wild irrelevance and never to fail⁠—one or the other⁠—of the precious question that had helped us through many a peril. “When do you think he will come? Don’t you think we ought