” She thought of her father, and with an effort dismissed him from her mind. 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. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being.
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