She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. See paragraph 1. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. ” She departed from the couch and went upstairs to find John. 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. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat.
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