On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. ‘Oh, peste. Finding remonstrances of no avail, he had recourse to threats; and when threats failed, he adopted more decided measures. I shall count it a privilege. 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.
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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 25-06-2024 14:47:07
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