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. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Here again instinct guided her. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. ‘That’s why I’m asking.
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