Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. 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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