She felt as if she had struck them unawares. 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. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. I'll do anything in reason for you, old top; but no pig in a poke. ” He stood quite silent for a moment, his eyes fixed upon her face.
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