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. ’ ‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled. " "Good enough for me. But, though the latter was somewhat embarrassed by his burthen, he peremptorily declined Jonathan's offer of assistance. "I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied Abraham.
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