Wood. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. She wore the most expensive athletic shoes money could buy in a fashionable black color with neon green laces. 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. Any financial return was inconsiderable against the promise of this psychological treat.
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