A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Michelle burst into laughter, followed by John, who almost spit up his cola. Sheppard. Rhea commanded her. . She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. 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. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it.
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