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Radclyffe Hall was a wealthy ‘invert’ as she liked to call herself, (following the lead of sexologist Havelock Ellis), who made it her mission to tell the world about her kind. Had she not done so, no-one would be reading her now. She believed she was a genius, tried to write good old-fashioned novels, wore men’s clothes, was deeply conservative, and considered herself ‘married’ to her monocle-sporting partner, Una Troubridge. They bred dachshunds, lived in Mayfair, and disapproved of both Socialism and Modernism in equal measure. Their hobby was contacting spirits by ouija board.

When the WELL was published, the Daily Express reviewer wrote: ‘I would rather give a healthy boy or healthy girl a phial of prussic acid than this novel.’

A small crowd meanwhile had gathered at the gates of Buckingham
Palace. Listlessly, yet confidently, poor people all of them, they
waited; looked at the Palace itself with the flag flying; at
Victoria, billowing on her mound, admired her shelves of running
water, her geraniums; singled out from the motor cars in the Mall
first this one, then that; bestowed emotion, vainly, upon commoners
out for a drive; recalled their tribute to keep it unspent while
this car passed and that; and all the time let rumour accumulate in
their veins and thrill the nerves in their thighs at the thought of
Royalty looking at them; the Queen bowing; the Prince saluting; at
the thought of the heavenly life divinely bestowed upon Kings; of
the equerries and deep curtsies; of the Queen's old doll's house;
of Princess Mary married to an Englishman, and the Prince--ah! the
Prince! who took wonderfully, they said, after old King Edward, but
was ever so much slimmer. The Prince lived at St. James's; but he
might come along in the morning to visit his mother.

but the difficulty of enunciating a monosyllable in reply to Mr. or Mrs. Stelling was so great, that he even dreaded to be asked at table whether he would have more pudding.

he was clearly a boy whose powers would never be developed through the medium of the Latin grammar, without the application of some sternness. Not that Mr. Stelling was a harsh-tempered or unkind man; quite the contrary. He was jocose with Tom at table, and corrected his provincialisms and his deportment in the most playful manner; but poor Tom was only the more cowed and confused by this double novelty, for he had never been used to jokes at all like Mr. Stelling's; and for the first time in his life he had a painful sense that he was all wrong somehow. When Mr. Stelling said, as the roast-beef was being uncovered, "Now, Tulliver! which would you rather decline, roast-beef or the Latin for it?" Tom, to whom in his coolest moments a pun would have been a hard nut, was thrown into a state of embarrassed alarm that made everything dim to him except the feeling that he would rather not have anything to do with Latin; of course he answered, "Roast-beef," whereupon there followed much laughter and some practical joking with the plates, from which Tom gathered that he had in some mysterious way refused beef, and, in fact, made himself appear "a silly." If he could have seen a fellow-pupil undergo these painful operations and survive them in good spirits, he might sooner have taken them as a matter of course. But there are two expensive forms of education, either of which a parent may procure for his son by sending him as solitary pupil to a clergyman: one is the enjoyment of the reverend gentleman's undivided neglect; the other is the endurance of the reverend gentleman's undivided attention. It was the latter privilege for which Mr. Tulliver paid a high price in Tom's initiatory months at King's Lorton.

Ada Miller (y luego Ada Miller Leswy, como si se hubiera casado y agregado el apellido de su marido) con el que publicó novelas eróticas. Para disimular, las escribió todas con un estilo falso, como si estuvieran traducidas de obras originales en inglés que en realidad no existían.