” He said curiously. 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. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. ” “Tolstoy is so good about this,” said Miss Miniver, regardless of her friend’s attitude. ” “Is it necessary,” he said, “for me to tell you——” “Stop, please,” she said firmly. " CHAPTER VI. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate.
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