fuck yeah
DON'T THINK IT HASN'T BEEN A LITTLE SLICE OF HEAVEN
Reviews for "Turn of the Screw"
I believe I have solved the mystery
We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick
steps upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady,
clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the
room.
"You will excuse my calling so late," she began, and then,
suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms
about my wife's neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. "Oh, I'm
in such trouble!" she cried; "I do so want a little help."
"Why," said my wife, pulling up her veil, "it is Kate Whit-
ney. How you startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were
when you came in."
"I didn't know what to do, so l came straight to you." That
was always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife
like birds to a light-house.
"It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have
some wine and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all
about it. Or should you rather that I sent James off to bed?"
"Oh, no, no! I want the doctor's advice and help, too. It's
about Isa. He has not been home for two days. I am so fright-
ened about him!"
It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her
husband's trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend
and school companion. We soothed and comforted her by such
words as we could find. Did she know where her husband was?
Was it possible that we could bring him back to her?
It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late
he had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in
the farthest east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been
confined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and
shattered, in the evening. But now the spell had been upon him
eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the
dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or sleeping off the
effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, at the Bar
of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How
could she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a
place and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who
surrounded him?
There was the case, and of course there was but one way out
of it. Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second
thought, why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney's
medical adviser, and as such I had influence over him. I could
manage it better if I were alone. I promised her on my word that
I would send him home in a cab within two hours if he were
indeed at the address which she had given me. And so in ten
minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind
me, and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand,
as it seemed to me at the time, though the future only could
show how strange it was to be.
Brilliant
I hope the collab this was supposed to be for will still get completed anyway.
YOU FOOL!
Everyone knows it was Air Supply that wrote Comfortably Numb!
well
now we know there IS somebody in there
funny