The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall — Read

The Antrims lived half a mile from Ledbury, on the other side of the hills. It was quite a long drive to their house from Morton -- Stephen was driven over in the dogcart. She sat beside Williams in gloomy silence, with the collar of her coat turned up to her ears. She was filled with a sense of bitter injustice; why should they insist on this stupid expedition? Even her father had been cross at luncheon because she preferred to stay at home with him. Why should she be forced to know other children? They didn't want her nor she them. And above all the Antrims! That idiotic Violet -- Violet who was learning to ride sidesaddle -- and Roger strutting about in his Etons, and bragging, always bragging because he was a boy -- and their mother who was quite sure to patronize Stephen, because being grown-up made her put on a manner. Stephen could hear her infuriating voice, the voice she reserved for children "Ah, here you are, Stephen! Now then, little people, run along and have a good feed in the schoolroom. There's plenty of cake; I knew Stephen was coming; we all know Stephen's capacity for cake!"

Stephen could hear Violet's timorous giggle and Roger's guffaw as they greeted this sally. She could feel his fat fingers pinching her arm; pinching cruelly, slyly, as he strutted beside her. Then his whisper: "You're a pig! You eat much more than I do, mother said so today, and boys need more than girls! " Then Violet: "I'm not very fond of plum cake, it makes me feel sicky -- mother says it's indigestion. I could never eat big bits of plum cake like Stephen. Nanny says I'm a dainty feeder. " Then Stephen herself, saying nothing at all, but glaring sideways at Roger.