Diane suggested to him that he retire early, and he did so agreeably, halfknowing it to be an order. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. Who invented them? Nobody knows. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. 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. “Bad hemorrhage,” he said. Parbleu, but she was a fool. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. They walked past his old jungle gym set to a hilly park that dwelled sleepily beyond his house.
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