He waved a cordial goodbye. “They seem to come to you as naturally as disappointment—to other people. 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. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. Perhaps I deceived you about it. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck.
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