Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. ” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. .
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