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. The two girls put on shoes and started walking towards the north side of town. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. There are way-stations—even terminals.
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