The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. 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. "I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. "I've lost my wager. Because of the thought of love and companionship? No.
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