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. A common rage flushed their faces. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 03:13:49
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