For all that, it is folly. B. 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. "There!" cried Mrs. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon.
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