Explore "Memoirs of a Midget" by Walter de la Mare on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I had been dismissed. But Mrs. Monnerie's anger had a curious potency. For a moment I could scarcely see out of my eyes, and the floor swayed under me as I scrambled down from my chair. It took me at least a minute, even with the help of a stool, to open the door.
Like a naughty child I had been put in the corner and then sent to bed. Good. There could be no going back now. I could count on Fanny -- the one thing she asked was to be free of me. As for Mrs. Monnerie, her flushed and sullen countenance convinced me that my respite would be undisturbed. There was only impulsive Susan to think of. And as if in answer, there came a faint tap, and the door softly opened to admit her gentle head and shoulders.