Explore "White Turrets" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Hertha Norreys stood staring at a letter -- or letters rather -- which she held in her hand, with an air of perplexity and surprise.
"I can't make it out," she said to herself. "It seems so odd and inconsistent. And -- I have not done so very much for her after all. They write as if I were her dearest friend, and in a sense responsible for her! I like her. There is a great deal of good in her, but the only real service I have done her since she came to London was getting Mr Montague to beg her in again, that time she was given notice of dismissal for defiance of the society's rules."