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 stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. “Is that okay with you? To go down to the station with him?” “I’ll go with him, Larry.
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