He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. 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. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. Diamonds! You shall have all that you can carry away, sacks full if you like. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered.
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