It would be too mortifying. 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. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. “We have to get in, I think,” said a nice little old lady in a bonnet to Ann Veronica, speaking with a voice that quavered a little. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. “Heavens, look at the time!” she exclaimed. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. ” “For a little time,” she answered.
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