“He will probably make a statement to-night. I've my own reasons for disliking this job. “For no other reason than you talk too much. \"I'm going to his baseball game, he's pitching for Lincoln, and then I believe he is taking me to dinner. Sebastian was always a man who felt the need to surround himself with the trappings of the finer life. 'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known. Do you think that I shall ever make an actress, my friend?” “I doubt it,” he answered bluntly. 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. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred.
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