During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. 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’s bound to be all right,” she said. "No!" she cried.
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