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They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. 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. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. "Devilish nice ham you've got here!—capital pie!—and, as I live, a flask of excellent canary. Wild," cried Jack, placing his hat on the right arm of the guide-post, and leaning over the board, "I've done the trick myself. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. ‘Ah, the tragedy.
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