"Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. He only laughed his defiance. 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 children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. Lucy acted the part of savoring the end of the meal, but it was difficult. And I have no more the pistol.
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