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“To my chagrin, I have. ” She patted his arm and wiped her tears away. 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. Besides, I don't think he's going to ask, if that is what you are getting at. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 19-05-2024 13:02:07
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