“I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. Those with true power were the Oracles. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. 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. It was really most vivid, most vivid! You seemed to be slipping and just going to tumble and holding on.
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