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 was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. After Gwen!” “I sent a telegram. O'Higgins. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay.
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