I was once a disciple of Saint Peter myself, and speak from experience. "Where are the boys?" "In the hall. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. “I’m not so sure. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. “Yes, I remember you now. 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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