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’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. . The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. But all normal humans smelled wonderful to her, even dirty ones. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. 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. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. "There is nobody else.
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