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. Funk! I’ll see it out. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. " "You!" cried the tapstress, with a look of horror: "Never!" "Confusion!" muttered Jack, suddenly pausing in his task, "the saw has broken just as I am through the spike.
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