“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Did he act to you that day as if he knew what he was doing?" "Not all of the time. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation.
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