” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. 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. About this conception of ownership he perceived and desired a certain sentimental glamour, he liked everything properly dressed, but it remained ownership. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay.
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