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. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. She admired his backside as he fetched a blue towel from his bathroom. I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me.
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