” She breathed an inner sigh of relief. ” He never helped her by a sound. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. 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. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do.
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