E below. Q. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. 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. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. Hopefully. "Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane. “You should probably wash all of that stuff off of yourself.
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