“Anyway, enough about that. 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. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. But not so much a pig as that man. " "If he could stand on two feet, I'd break every bone in his worthless body!" McClintock said soothingly: "But that wouldn't nullify the marriage, old boy. In the corner of the room were two hockey-sticks and a tennis-racket, and upon the walls Ann Veronica, by means of autotypes, had indicated her proclivities in art. ‘You seem to understand the gentry very well.
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