‘I’ve never before made love at pistol point. The Well Hole. 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. You say I know nothing. They almost made me feel like they were mine. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end.
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