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. “Do YOU go across the Park?” “Not usually. “If any one should know——you should! He was your friend. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. Do you have a car?” She asked. . . " "By no means," rejoined Wood, hastily.
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