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. “Well,” she said. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. So I made haste and recovered. It was better even than the hymn-singing. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. " "I sha'n't want these curtains.
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