’ She pronounced it with a French inflexion, but Gerald understood her to mean the English name he knew. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. 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.
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