Life is morality—life is adventure. 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. ” He paused for a moment, and then suddenly continued. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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