You’re a piss-poor liar, John. 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. She stared at him. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say. "And now let's see who'll dare to oppose me. It’s awkward, but we’ll get round it somehow. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. He glanced at his watch.
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