“You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. 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. "I yield to fate. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. \" Michelle raised her hand in a gesture of High Five.
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