Explore "The Carved Lions" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
That Sunday -- that last Sunday I somehow feel inclined to call it -- stands out in my memory quite differently from its fellows. Both Haddie and I felt dull and depressed, partly owing no doubt to the weather, but still more, I think, from that vague fear of something being wrong which we were both suffering from, though we would not speak of it to each other.
It cleared up a little in the evening, and though it was cold and chilly we went to church. Mamma had said to us we might if we liked, and Lydia was going.