‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. She put her head out of the window. He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. 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. Someone was coming out of the house. “Yes. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious.
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