It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. 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 felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. “I am sorry for the way I acted, Lucy.
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