“Because you are going to tell upstairs.

Is that it?”

“No,” said I, “that's not it.”

“Why don't you cry again, you little wretch?”

“Because I'll never cry for you again,” said I. Which was, I suppose, as false a declaration as ever was made; for I was inwardly crying for her then, and I know what I know of the pain she cost me afterwards.

We went on our way upstairs after this episode; and, as we were going up, we met a gentleman groping his way down.

“Whom have we here?” asked the gentleman, stopping and looking at me.

“A boy,” said Estella.