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. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. “I did it for love of you,” he said. " "Did I hear you aright?" asked Trenchard, with startling eagerness. .
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