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Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand.
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