“I do not know what you mean,” he said, “but if you are referring to any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. 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. ‘Who have lately joined us,’ she said, adding sotto voce, ‘A very great tragedy. “Where are they?” She looked around. "It seems like six long months to me. " "Ah, I see.
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