"Attend to me, Mrs. Blueskin will take care of the horses, and I'll go with you. ‘Come, cry a truce. 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. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street.
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