The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. 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. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. He and her father shook hands manfully.
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