The place to which you went was not the English Embassy, and the whole performance was a fraud. " "Man!" screamed Mrs. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. 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 glanced into his face.
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