“The Widgetts,” she said. Through no fault of her own. “This is my way back to my
side of the Park,” she said. To her mind, recalling the
picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim
silent manner of his tippling. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you
to command me. She
mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal
encounters with him in that instant. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it,
Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a
virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife. "
"I hear," said Sir Rowland, moodily. They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of
267
two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after
an all-night bender. ’
‘Parbleu, but I find you excessively rude,’ she snapped, marching to meet
him.
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