There was a strained, eager expression on his face. And now YOU’RE on the war-path. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. 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. The truth was impossible, indecent. .
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