” Cathy ruffled Lucy’s curly hair. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. 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. Remember, some day you and I are going to have that book. ’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. She drew it out with shaking fingers. Her thoughts took words for themselves. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace.
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