Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. ” Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door. I'll go alone. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. 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. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out.
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