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. F. Do sit down, dear boy. They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. .
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