Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. "I will administer it. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. She missed them already. Now you will learn the result. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. "You will act most in accordance with her wishes, could she dictate them, by compliance. 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.
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