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I felt somehow I’d hurt you. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. 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. I did not even know where to write and thank you.
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This video was uploaded to tipsonbuyingacar.com on 21-09-2024 14:50:54
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