You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. 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. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head.
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