“I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. She did not see Sebastian turn towards the boy and his family, but every hair on the back of her neck stood up rigidly. 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. “Look here,” he said, protruding his eyes; “why get anything to do at all just yet? Why, if you must be free, why not do the sensible thing? Make yourself worth a decent freedom. But her heart kept on sinking. ’ ‘Charvill, then,’ Gerald concluded, unperturbed. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. “I’ll be here at one in the morning. .
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