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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. The land about these walls is a common graveyard. " "You think so, eh?" chuckled Shotbolt, who was eagerly perusing the reward, and congratulating himself upon his caution; "you think so—ha! ha! Well, don't go to bed, that's all. He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times.
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This video was uploaded to choigaigoi.net on 25-06-2024 07:46:40
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