Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken. Spurling in alarm. Little woman, you have been brave enough before. But did you ever hear of a djinn in a blue-serge coat? Stitched in!" Something like this was always rushing into his throat; and he had to sink his nails into his palms to stop his mouth. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. There were so many things about her which he could not understand.
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