“I believe that you are right,” he said softly. ’ Triumph soared in Gerald’s chest. ’ She grasped the girl’s arm. She was carefree. “Glad to see you in London. ” “Well, tell me. " "Well, it's mighty fine of you to break your journey in this fashion—for someone you don't know, a passer-by. And then amusement crept into Alderley’s chest and he let his pistol hand fall. 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. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ‘Knew you had the lad with you, and thought you were merely delayed.
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