THE SACRED FOUNT
don't insist on the name. Nothing is, I admit, a miracle from the moment one's on the track of the cause, which was the scent we were following. Call the thing simply my fact."
She gave her high head a toss. " f it's yours it's nobody else's!"
"Ah, there's just the question—if we could know all! But my point is precisely, for the present, that you do deny it."
"Of course I deny it," said Mrs. Briss.
I took a moment, but my silence held her. "Your 'of course' would be what I would again contest, what I would denounce and brand as the word too much—the word that spoils, were it not that it seems best, that it in any case seems necessary, to let all question of your consistency go."
On that I had paused, and, as I felt myself still holding her, I was not surprised when my pause had an effect. "You do let it go?"
She had tried, I could see, to put the inquiry as all ironic. But it was not all ironic; it was, in fact, little enough so to suggest for me some intensification—not quite, I trust, wanton—of her suspense. I should be at a loss to say indeed how much it suggested or half of what it told. These things again almost violently moved me, and if I, after an instant, in my silence, turned away, it was not only to keep her waiting, but to make my elation more private. I turned away to that tune that I literally, for a few
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