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. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. ’ ‘But me, I am not very good with accepting,’ Melusine said bitterly over her shoulder.
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