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. ” She had not, she reflected, remembered how prominent his eyes were. ” He stated matter-of-factly. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head.
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