There it was—to be borrowed. 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. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. . How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it.
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