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. As a rule their comings and goings were discussed with perfect confidence, but on this occasion they both felt that there was intent in her silence as to her destination. Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her mother's infamy. . ‘Who has begun this but you?’ Gerald barely heard her. When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried.
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