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Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. " "Do not distress him, dear father," said Winifred; "he suffers deeply. "Is it poison?" she asked. 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. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation.
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