Explore "The Well of Loneliness" by Radclyffe Hall on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mrs. Antrim was waiting for Stephen in the lounge -- she was always waiting to waylay her in the lounge, or so it appeared to Stephen. The lounge was a much overdressed apartment, full of small, useless tables and large, clumsy chairs. You bumped into the chairs and tripped over the tables; at least you did if you were Stephen. There was one deadly pitfall you never could avoid, a huge polar bear skin that lay on the floor. Its stuffed head protruded at a most awkward angle; you invariably stubbed your big toe on that head. Stephen, true to tradition, stubbed her toe rather badly as she blundered towards Mrs. Antrim.
"Dear me," remarked her hostess, "you are a great girl; why your feet must be double the size of Violet's! Come here and let me have a look at your feet. " Then she laughed as though something amused her.