Explore "On the Brink of a Chasm" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mrs. Ives was like and yet unlike her daughter. She had the same sandy complexion, her face was slightly freckled and her lips very thin; she had shrewd, kindly eyes, however, and a brisk, active manner. She was about sixty years of age. Clara bustled about now to make her mother comfortable.
"You sit just here," she said, pushing the old lady into the only arm-chair which the little room contained. "After you have had a good breakfast you shall lie down for a bit. There's a great deal to be done, and I have much to tell you."