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. We aren't between him and heaven; he is between us and heaven. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. So that as she saw him she remarked to herself very faintly but definitely, “Oh, golly!” and set up a campaign of avoidance that Mr. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes. ” “Just as you wish,” Mr. " "Go, Mr. "And the next time Captain Darrell wants a witness, I promise you he shan't look for one in vain.
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