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. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. She listened, listened intently for several minutes. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors.
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