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. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. He knew she was out there, he could feel it. “I am exceedingly sorry,” he said. ” She looked thoughtfully into the fire.
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