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. His face was very serious. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. He had been baptized there. " Downstairs he sought the hotel manager. And why, after all, should she not borrow money from Ramage? It was so true what he said; middle-class people WERE ridiculously squeamish about money.
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