Explore "The Well of Loneliness" by Radclyffe Hall on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Stephen never went to her father's study in order to talk of her grief over Collins. A reticence strange in so young a child, together with a new, stubborn pride, held her tongue-tied, so that she fought out her battle alone, and Sir Philip allowed her to do so. Collins disappeared and with her the footman, and in Collins' stead came a new second housemaid, a niece of Mrs. Bingham's, who was even more timid than her predecessor, and who talked not at all. She was ugly, having small, round black eyes like currants -- not inquisitive blue eyes like Collins.
With set lips and tight throat Stephen watched this intruder as she scuttled to and fro doing Collins' duties. She would sit and scowl at poor Winefred darkly, devising small torments to add to her labours -- such as stepping on dustpans and upsetting their contents, or hiding away brooms and brushes and slop-cloths -- until Winefred, distracted, would finally unearth them from the most inappropriate places.