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. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. ’ He reddened a little, and shuffled his feet. ‘It is imbecile that you are. She felt much better. ” She turned away.
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