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. There are cigarettes and magazines in the corner there. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them.
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