Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. She had no intention of fighting fair. 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. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. The conditions are such as I think you will recognize the justice of.
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