I don’t know anyone. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. Her father had determined on a new line. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. 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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