. 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. “I can tell you are thinking about it. His spirits began to rise. Adieu! my charmer. Spurlock slumped in his chair, weak and empty. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. The man is a stranger to me. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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