This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. Not to go to her is wickeder than if I had run away with my friend's wife. ‘Oh, the Frenchie. 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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