” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. 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. “Really it is very kind of you to have found me out. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets.
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