It’s not fair to you. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. 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. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. I only know that it is right to do what I do. "It's like enough, I dare say," rejoined Sheppard.
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