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. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. And we'll see whether it won't put the Italian opera out of fashion, with Cutzoni, Senesino, and the 'divine' Farinelli at its head. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you.
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