’ She turned her head, eyes blazing. Had he not said so? Not that she wished him to marry her. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. Then I came to London and tried almost everything—all failures. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. But send me word. 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. He returned her impressive greeting almost mechanically.
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