ruin you. Look at these walls. 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. “His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. That he’s come here at all shows he’ll stop at nothing.
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