The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall — Read

Mrs. Bingham departed unmourned and unmourning, and in her stead reigned Mademoiselle Duphot, a youthful French governess with a long, pleasant face that reminded Stephen of a horse. This equine resemblance was fortunate in one way -- Stephen took to Mademoiselle Duphot at once -- but it did not make for respectful obedience. On the contrary, Stephen felt very familiar, kindly familiar and quite at her ease; she petted Mademoiselle Duphot. Mademoiselle Duphot was lonely and homesick, and it must be admitted that she liked being petted. Stephen would rush off to get her a cushion, or a footstool or her glass of milk at eleven.

"Comme elle est gentille, cette drôle de petite fille, elle a si bon cœur," would think Mademoiselle Duphot, and somehow geography would not seem to matter quite so much, or arithmetic either -- in vain did Mademoiselle try to be strict, her pupil could always beguile her.