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Wood. 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. “Something. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. ’ Melusine cursed Emile roundly, but raised a defiant head. But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. . She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. . Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. "I alone am to blame. “What?” He replied.
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