It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. Been in the wars with both the major and Capting Roding, I have,’ Trodger informed her loftily.
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