Explore "The Way Home" by Henry Handel Richardson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Than queening it at balls, she felt more in her element seated in a rather dingily furnished drawing-room, holding poor Agnes Ocock's hand. Although it had struck five and the worst heat of the day was over, Agnes was still in her bedgown--she had been lying down with the headache, she said--nor could Mary persuade her to exchange this for bonnet and shawl, and drive out with her in the brougham that stood at the door.
-"Another time, dearest, if you do not mind. To-day I have no fancy for it."