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. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. ” Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown moustache and restless grey eyes. " "Well, well! This part of the world is jammed full of surprises. He would have to return to Hong-Kong; and his trail would be picked up the moment he set foot on the Praya.
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