Explore "The Laurel Walk" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A tall girl was standing at the window of a drawing-room in a large house at the corner of a certain London square.
It was a good house, though with nothing very distinctive about it; one of the class that now, at the end of the nineteenth-century, people are beginning to look upon as somewhat old-fashioned. There was nothing "Queen Anne" about it, or its furniture; though, to make amends for this, it gave the impression of dignity and stateliness: perhaps, after all, the points that it is safest to aim at in a definitely town house, where light and height and air are the great desiderata. And there was nothing grim or gloomy in the colouring of the room, though a perhaps too studied avoidance of mere prettiness, which would, I fear, have been designated by its mistress as "tawdry frippery" or something analogous thereto.