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. Happily they had no one else to wait for, and it heartened her mightily to think that she had ordered the promptest possible service of the dinner. . Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. Melusine did not attempt to speak. I don’t think you understand.
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