Status Updates From The Girl in a Swing

“this lady's niece, a rather hefty girl of about twenty, was living with them for a year to improve--or rather, to perfect, for she was already fluent and idiomatic
-her English. She became known as 'the Danish pastry," for she was not particularly good-looking-a rare thing for a Dane,”

I’d say something like this

The garden beneath it I now knew to contain the bodies of innocent, helpless victims, whose wanton murders nullified the sunlight and flowers, nullified Mrs. Cook and her pretty breasts and cool hands.

I’d say this

She was being unthinkingly selfish from habit, like a spoilt child, or an Oriental princess urging a young courtier to attempt some dangerous feat purely for her titillation and amusement.

This is hilarious

The soft firmness of one of her breasts-she was wearing a thin, pale-blue twin-set, I remember-just touched the side of my face and I could smell her light, warm femininity: scented soap and the faintest trace of fresh sweat. I felt myself erect-instantly and fully, as a boy does-and became horribly embarrassed. I could not tell whether or not anyone else had noticed.

Everyone noticed dude.

This second time I felt completely bored and switched-off, and simply sat enjoying the sight of Mrs. Cook as she bent forward to pick up the various beakers. In fact I had, in an odd way, forgotten what we were all supposed to be doing,