‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. "I don't believe McClintock would have gone into convulsions at the sight of it. He turned his back on that temptation. ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. I meant to give him a drubbing. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNy4xODUuMjIyIC0gMTQtMDktMjAyNCAwNjo1ODoxNyAtIDE2Nzg4MDk3MzU=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 11-09-2024 12:22:52
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9