There our time was spent between one and another of several
watering-places. I longed for Melbourne; but the house was
shut up; we could not go there. The summer was very wearisome
to me. I did not like the houses in which our time was spent,
or the way of life led in them. Neither did Miss Pinshon, I
think; for she was out of her element, and had no chance to
follow her peculiar vocation. Of course, in a public hotel, we
could not have a schoolroom; and with the coming on of warm
weather my strength failed again, so sensibly, that all there
was to do was to give me sea air and bathing, and let me
alone. The bathing I enjoyed; those curling salt waves
breaking over my head, are the one image of anything fresh or
refreshing which my memory has kept. I should have liked the
beach; I did like it; only it was covered with bathers, or
else with promenaders in carriages and on foot, at all times
when I saw it; and though they were amusing, the beach was
spoiled. The hotel rooms were close and hot; I missed all the
dainty freedom and purity of my own home; the people I saw
were, it seemed to me, entirely in keeping with the rooms;
that is, they were stiff and fussy, not quiet and busy.
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