. ‘It must seem strange to you at first. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. 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. "Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night.
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