Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. “I can’t conceive what you want. ” “You want to change my look, yes?” Lucy peered at her. 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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