Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. There was just a minute’s hesitation before they gave her a room. “Please don’t be sad. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. "Ha! say you so? You must be looked to. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. 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.
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