Miss Spenlow, it seems, will not take more milk in her tea.
(Miss Spenlow's manner, on the whole, is not overwhelmingly warm towards Mr. Fortinbras.)
"Oh, but Miss Twaite," she cries, turning her head quickly, "whatever happened to your petticoat?" For indeed Miss Twaite is mending a petticoat, which has clearly been savaged in several places.
(Also, apparently, trailed through quartz dust of some sort, from the way it glints oddly in the light.)
"Miss Twaite!" cries Mr. Fortinbras at the same time, in tones of strong disapproval. "Do you really think you ought to be mending a - an undergarment - in a room which all of us frequent? Don't you agree, Wolfe?" he appeals to his fellow in masculinity, Prosper obviously being French and of no use even if he were awake.
no subject
(Miss Spenlow's manner, on the whole, is not overwhelmingly warm towards Mr. Fortinbras.)
"Oh, but Miss Twaite," she cries, turning her head quickly, "whatever happened to your petticoat?" For indeed Miss Twaite is mending a petticoat, which has clearly been savaged in several places.
(Also, apparently, trailed through quartz dust of some sort, from the way it glints oddly in the light.)
"Miss Twaite!" cries Mr. Fortinbras at the same time, in tones of strong disapproval. "Do you really think you ought to be mending a - an undergarment - in a room which all of us frequent? Don't you agree, Wolfe?" he appeals to his fellow in masculinity, Prosper obviously being French and of no use even if he were awake.