" "How?" "Listen to me, Thames. But did you ever hear of a djinn in a blue-serge coat? Stitched in!" Something like this was always rushing into his throat; and he had to sink his nails into his palms to stop his mouth. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. ‘Do not tell me he has escaped.
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