But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. 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 would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. “It’s like the Picture and the Bust. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. ‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement.
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