. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. 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. Aralarındaki ilişki, aşka dönüştü ve ikisi de mutlu bir hayat sürdüler. She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr.
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