"I cannot sign it," returned Trenchard. I’ve bored you or something. "There!" cried Mrs. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. It's my way when I'm ruffled. 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.
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