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. Permit me to introduce myself. 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. " The foregoing conversation, having been conducted throughout in a low tone, and apart, had not reached the ears of Mr. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice.
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