" He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. . I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. See paragraph 1. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me. Homosexuals weren’t looked too kindly upon in their exclusive suburban neighborhood, not even dashing handsome ones. 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. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. Then she went up-stairs again, dressed herself carefully for town, put on her most businesslike-looking hat, and with a wave of emotion she found it hard to control, walked down to catch the 3.
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