” “Do you think so? I find my interest in that sort of thing decline and decline. Wood in the deepest mourning. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. But you are Annabel. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. Manning, in his entirely different dialect, indorsed her brother Roddy’s view of things. 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. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell.
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