” “Quite. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. 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. ” Anna sat back in her cab, but found it remain stationary. .
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