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. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone.
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