” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. "Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. "Do you mean to say you will interfere—" "I mean to say this," interrupted Wild, with contemptuous calmness, "that I'll neither allow you to leave England nor the profession you've engaged in. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. I don’t. 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. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal.
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