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. ’ ‘What about this Leonardo fellow?’ Hilary asked, still frowning heavily. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. David Courtlaw. “Number 13, please, cabman. Dear God, what a beautiful moment!" The fire went out of Spurlock's eyes and the shadow of hopeless weariness fell upon him. In this way, more than a month passed over.
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