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’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone. . ” She fumbled with her keys and opened the front door. ‘Poor Hilary. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. 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. "I'll show you Captain Sheppard, my dear. He came into the club next day, and of course we went for him thick. ‘Something in that, missie. Stanley almost liked Ramage. ’ ‘But the general gave his permission.
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