She recoiled. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. ” “Would you mind telling me,” Anna asked, “how long I knew you in Paris?” He looked at her sideways. 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. “So you’d best open your coffers. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time.
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