"Take me, then," replied the widow. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. 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. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago. " "This way, sir.
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