It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. ’ ‘From a convent? Even if I wished to do it, I could not. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings.
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