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. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere. ‘Do you think I would do to him as he made a threat to do to me? No. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. And not only did these tentacular generalizations gather all the facts of natural history and comparative anatomy together, but they seemed always stretching out further and further into a world of interests that lay altogether outside their legitimate bounds. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. "He was thrown overboard, and perished at sea. But I sent him the longest way about. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. "If you don't stop its squalling, I will. 54 \"Yes?\" \"No one says 'Oh my word' anymore.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjIwNS4xNzggLSAyMy0xMC0yMDI0IDEyOjI1OjI4IC0gMTExMTgzMTE2MA==
This video was uploaded to betosfer.xyz on 20-10-2024 09:13:10
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10 - Ref11 - Ref12 - Ref13