Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. But not so much a pig as that man. ‘But you,’ she said in the friendliest way imaginable, ‘are a person tout à fait sympathique, I think. Wait a second. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival.
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