And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. This is a tale of two young fools. 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. Wood; "he has gone out without leave, and has taken Thames Darrell with him. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address.
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