You don’t understand. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. " Downstairs he sought the hotel manager. ’ The girl shook her head violently, setting the feathers on her hat bobbing. It was an impulse. “I suppose I should let go if I had. 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. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. It’s one of their worst traits, one of their very worst. Now what I want you to feel is this. But then he began to take steps, and, at last, strides to something more and more like predominance.
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