Turning now, and running down the terrace. 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. "All that you have been telling me, our old Kanaka cook summed up in a phrase. The boy was right.
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