” “Then tell her to undress, confound her!” The City had been thoroughly annoying that day, and he was angry from the outset. "I declare I'm all in a cold sweat. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. The fire still burned brightly. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. 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.
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