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. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. Martha had the square look of solid English citizenry, which was not deceiving. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces.
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