His friendship seemed a thing worth having. 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. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter. I spent many happy days there.
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