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. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. Lucy's grin faded. His tone was rough, almost threatening. ‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. “In the bathroom.
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