Explore "Imogen" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"You're not cold, I hope, Florence," he said suddenly, waking up out of a brown study.
"Oh no, it is never very cold just here; the rocks shelter us," she said. "Besides, I am well used to it, and well wrapped up. I only hope your _protegee_ won't catch cold," she added, somewhat uneasily. "I should get into a scrape both with her mother and my own."