It began as a joke. Of course. "Your boast, you see, was a little premature, Mr. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew. 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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