But her heart kept on sinking. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. " "You're fine, too. With Jack so badly injured, how would she get him home? How get herself home, now that Trodger had arrested her. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. She crooked her finger. Rage flooded her at his intent, but she controlled it. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy.
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