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 was a deep groan, and the sound of a fall within. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. "To be sure he has!" returned Mrs. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait.
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