Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. 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. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. He pretended to be unaware of the mishap. My mother shall never degrade herself by a connection with you. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. She hated living like that.
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