They listened to the sound of Fanny’s retreating footsteps. ‘Well, well!’ said Marcus. ‘Oh, take no notice Jess. You know what our Frances Maud is like! It’s nothing to cry about!’ To her humiliation Jessamy found there were tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘Always getting worked up about something, Fanny is.’ – page 105: As she did so Fanny put down her book , stood up and stretched her arms, and at once Jessamy noticed a difference. It was the same Fanny but not the Fanny who climbed trees and tore her frock playing in the garden. It was as though a young lady film had settled over her, neatening her unruly hair, which was tied back with a large black bow, and primly composing her small mouth.

[…] I believe my Father catched [sic] cold on his journey, tho' he was otherways a very strong healful man, for on his return to Pennicuik a boile broke out between his shoulders, which in a very few days turn'd to a Mortification.

You don't have a boyfriend, slutface, you take on the whole school.

Spring flowers everywhere—freesias in throng, and startling growths of kangaroo paw with its dark red, vividly red stalks.