She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. 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. An ancient smile lay on his lips.
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