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 is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. “Ding-dong-Diedermayer is here, Lucy. The gong will go at seven-thirty. Earles,” Anna said.
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