Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
Many months had passed since the time when she would have boldly walked into the galleried inn-yard and asked for what she wanted. The refining influence of Miss Pinwell's genteel establishment had made her loathe the low life in which her early years had been passed. "They can't eat me," she thought. "Besides, the poor fellow is starving." The place was fairly quiet.
"Why didn't you go back to Miss Pinwell's?" Mrs. Fenton demanded sharply. "I see by this scrawl that it isn't the first time you've stolen out to meet this precious gallant of yours." And Mrs. Fenton, suddenly producing the letter which she had hitherto concealed, waved it in her daughter's face. Lavinia flushed angrily and burst out:
In a flash her life at the school, its monotony and discipline, the irksomeness of regular work, rose before her! She had been some months at Miss Pinwell's establishment and her restless soul pined for a change. Though she looked back to her vagabond life in the streets with a shudder, she yearned for its freedom, but without its degradations.
Lavinia Fenton was the black sheep lamb perhaps is a more fitting word, she was but seventeen of the school. But somehow her peccadilloes were always forgiven. She had a smile against which severity even Miss Pinwell's was powerless. "What were you doing just now when you were not writing?" The head was slowly raised. The wealth of wavy brown hair fell back from the broad smooth brow.
Gay had arranged a plan with the duchess and he replied promptly. "She will stay here for a few days while her wardrobe is being got ready, then she is to go to Miss Pinwell's boarding school in Queen Square." "Carry me out and bury me decent," ejaculated Mrs. Fenton. "Then I'm to be the mother of a fine lady, am I?" "I don't say that, but a clever one if I'm not mistaken." "Clever! Oh la!
"Miss Fenton, why are you not working?" came the inquiry sharply from Miss Pinwell's thin lips. Lavinia Fenton withdrew the instrument of torture and Priscilla Coupland's neck was left in peace. It was done so swiftly that Miss Pinwell's glance, keen as it was, never detected the movement.
Hang me if you haven't sprung into a woman in a few months." It was true. When Spiller last saw her she was hardly better than a waif and stray. She was thin and bony, her growth impeded by insufficient food, irregular hours and not a little ill usage. At Miss Pinwell's she had lived well, she was happy, she had had love illusions and Nature had asserted its sway. Lavinia coloured with pleasure.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking