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. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. “I wish you would not do it. “Hey, John. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. My address is 94, Pall Mall. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him.
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