Our quarrel's quite over. 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. Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage.
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