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. I asked her to marry me, and she consented. " "Mrs. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears. ” He said, uncrossing his arms.
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