4. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. White’s surprise as she swung easily down the room, followed by the two young men, she smiled a careless explanation at her. . 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. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. ‘It is to say goodbye, you understand. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut.
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