She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. 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 wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. ’ Then she jammed her hat on her head all anyhow and ran from the room. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?.
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