Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. 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. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. Lucy arranged her hair as Michelle had taught her instead of combing it out. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him.
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