“We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. 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. "So did I," answered Jack; "we had better move on. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips.
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