The door opened. " "Rather behind me;" and he spoke no more that morning. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard. 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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