She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. 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. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. PELLISSIER. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother.
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