It was difficult to get right. 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. Grace à Leonardo, she could defend herself now! Gosse was still attempting to manhandle the door, when she turned the key and wrenched it open. .
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