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” The men at the reporter’s table lifted their eyebrows, smiled faintly, and leaned back to watch how she took her scolding. She had begun alone. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. 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.
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