Widgett was a journalist and art critic, addicted to a greenish-gray tweed suit and “art” brown ties; he smoked corncob pipes in the Avenue on Sunday morning, travelled third class to London by unusual trains, and openly despised golf. 2. ” It came upon him like a flash. ” She glanced at Brendon, who stood by her side, tall and threatening. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. You have made your public, you are already a personage. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. ” “I’m not surprised at it. "Because they're in the next room, and the door's shut; that's vy, my jack-adandy!" replied Abraham, unsuspiciously.
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