’ Roding gave him a look of respect. 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 what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. Very well, then.
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