Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why. "Farewell!" cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. 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. She knew it. “There were some Hampshire Pellissiers.
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