I thought it better not to send him away till I'd mentioned the circumstance to you. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. 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.
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