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. I am certainly no ghost. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. Witness Browning. She knew now that he never would.
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