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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. “I didn’t know you were so keen on this suffrage business. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. ’ Chapter Ten ‘I am come on a mission of some delicacy, ma’am,’ Gerald said calmly to the old lady. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. He flew to the window, and would have passed his sword through the thief-taker's body, if the latter had not quickly interposed the person of Mrs. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful. ’ Gerald’s jaw tightened.
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