" "Curse you!" cried Jack, furiously,—"curse you!—curse you!" "Swear away, Captain," rejoined Blueskin, coolly. ” Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room. " "My dear," said the hospitable carpenter, "I dare say Mr. Professor Michael S. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. Anything that had love in it! The doctor comprehended that he also had his work cut out. 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 dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party.
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