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. ” Anna laughed outright. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. This done, he followed the course which Jack had just taken. It cuts. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. Bu I can speak to that point. " "First, let me introduce my friends," returned Jack, stepping to the door. " "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs.
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