It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. Spurlock slept on. “If he is not here now I can make myself safe.
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