Sheppard, horror-stricken. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. 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. He was an odd one, especially for a young man. "I wouldn't give a betel-nut for a man who wouldn't stick to his guns, if he believed himself in the right.
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