Explore "Quicksands" by B.M. Croker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In the creaking, rumbling fly conversation had been somewhat difficult, but when in a smooth-running first-class carriage -- which luckily we had to ourselves -- Lizzie and I enjoyed at last a heart-to-heart talk. My aunt's letter, so tardy in making its appearance, had been cordial and even affectionate. She no longer addressed me as if I were a naughty child, but a full-grown human being, and even an intelligent member of society! I drew her epistle from my hand bag and glanced over it once more.
It was written from Claridge's Hotel, and said: