She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look.
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