47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. 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. . You cannot—shall not retreat. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning.
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