” Ann Veronica could have wept with vexation. And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. 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.
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