A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. I don’t know. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners. Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. Milky sunlight spilled on the floor. 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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