The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. “It is hard to express one’s self, but I do want to be honest with you. ’ That arrested her. 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. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves.
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