“My dear boy,” she exclaimed. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. He caught the smirk. 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. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. " "I've heard of him," replied Jack, impatiently.
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