“You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. 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. You have to see her to understand. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. ’ ‘I’m afraid you are right.
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