It was the moment for smiles. 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. Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. It was so hopeless to put it to them. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother.
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