I said I hadn’t been at the Royal Society soiree for four years, and got him to tell me about some of the fresh Mendelian work. 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. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?.
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