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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. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. In the beginning was afraid; but after the first several cases, I had only pity.
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This video was uploaded to theblogfullofgames.com on 19-09-2024 17:02:03
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