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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. “You don’t waste any time. Their houses became a refuge of ill repute, the source of rumor and intrigue in the highest echelons of society. I knew it. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. ” Brendon rushed to the piano and strummed out a tune.
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