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. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin. So the young fool had not told her! McClintock had suspected as much. It was impulsive and natural.
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