"No offence," returned Jonathan. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. 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. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. Shall I sew it on for you?" "If you wish. "You are a physician; you know the vagaries of men in liquor.
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