The Turn of the Screw - Henry James
Miles stood again with his hands in his little pockets and his back to me - stood and looked out of the wide window through which, that other day, I had seen what pulled me up. We continued silent while the maid was with us - as silent, it whimsically occurred to me, as some young couple who, on their wedding journey, at the inn, feel shy in the presence of the waiter. He turned round only when the waiter had left us.
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