“Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. But we waste time. “He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. Open it. 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. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease.
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