Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig. Very well, then. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. " "I'll bet she still smells to heaven with sour coconut. 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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