A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. 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. They were horrible people. But she was not to be tempted. His little doll. Until the age of five she adored him.
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