. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. Her face expressed nothing. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. It was a pity people had to eat food. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. 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 shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him.
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