They must see the prisoner at the hatch. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. 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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