“They would spoil every chance. No matter. Diedermeyer, sweetheart? He just went in. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. " This placard attracted universal attention. 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. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes.
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