Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. 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. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. Not us. .
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