She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. She directed the little old woman and then made her way to van D. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. “If you speak—farewell. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man.
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