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. Old Bethlehem, or Bedlam,—every trace of which has been swept away, and the hospital for lunatics removed to Saint George's Field,—was a vast and magnificent structure. . The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. He seemed to be. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison.
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