"But if it is your mother, send her about her business. But did you ever hear of a djinn in a blue-serge coat? Stitched in!" Something like this was always rushing into his throat; and he had to sink his nails into his palms to stop his mouth. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. He had deliberately saved it for last. From the first I could see that neither believed my story. But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. Neither you nor your mother shall escape me.
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