“Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. All your faults are just jolly modelling to make you real and solid. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. 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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