He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. 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. “I have never yet met a man whose intellect I could respect. She would just have to show up and hope for the best. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease.
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