The couple reappeared from behind the curtains, both visibly shaken. 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. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. “My dear sweet Lucia. "I've got to see him; but I'll be reasonable. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. I may as well think. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock.
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