I can get into my clothes. 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. Sheppard despairingly. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. He filled his pipe slowly. I suppose the phrase—the word—originally meant a man who searched for food on the beach. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup.
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