Explore "The Laurel Walk" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Frances stood for a moment in hesitation. Should she go home at once, or stroll a little farther? No one was wanting her at Fir Cottage just then, and she rather shrank from _tete-a-tetes_ with her sisters in their present suspense. Her glance fell on the old church, and there came upon her a strange feeling of attraction thither, overmastering the remembrance of the shock she had received there. And somehow, almost before she knew it, for the door was again open, she found herself in the old pew in the very same corner where both she and Eira had in different ways been so startled.
Her glance fell on the woodwork where her frill had caught. Yes, the little splinter was still sticking out. She touched it: it was stronger than she had thought, and did not yield to her intention of pulling it off. She pulled again, then pressed it backwards.