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. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. Their colorful displays seemed to repel the dreariness of the sky as each group savored its long awaited moment, its weekend arrival in front of the opposite sex. Never really thought about Him—people don’t. ‘How much does he know?’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned narrowed eyes on Gerald. What more could any reasonable man— especially a watchman—desire? Besides, the Marquis, is a devilish fine fellow, and a particular friend of mine.
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