“It’s the stir of spring,” he said. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. 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. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. ’ ‘Well, but Leonardo he was excessively useful to me, you know,’ Melusine said airily.
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