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. 47, straightening her hat and waiting for her luggage to appear. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky. .
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