Explore "My Brilliant Career" by Miles Franklin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The next time I saw Harold Beecham was on Sunday the 13th of December. There was a hammock swinging under a couple of trees in an enclosure, half shrubbery, partly orchard and vegetable garden, skirting the road. In this I was gently swinging to and fro, and very much enjoying an interesting book and some delicious gooseberries, and seeing Harold approaching pretended to be asleep, to see if he would kiss me. But no, he was not that style of man. After tethering his horse to the fence and vaulting himself over it, he shook me and informed me I was as sound asleep as a log, and had required no end of waking.
My hair tumbled down. I accused him of disarranging it, and ordered him to repair the damage. He couldn't make out what was the matter with it, only that "It looks a bit dotty."