You are welcome to proclaim yourself ‘Alcide’ if you will. 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. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. I’m turning into a big fat cow. They lived alone, mainly inhabiting the castle’s upper floors. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. His glance came up again and met hers. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl.
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