They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. I am the richest man in England. 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. It depresses one, you know. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John.
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