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. ’ ‘Glad you’re so sanguine,’ interrupted Captain Roding. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. .
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