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. It’s just like your Splendid Pride to do it. He was not a sailor. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. You'll find those young ladies extremely agreeable acquaintances. ” “He imposed on me,” Annabel continued. Lonesomeness isn't my worry.
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