Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. 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. ’ ‘With ease, mademoiselle,’ he countered, catching her blade. You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. I’ve no name for it yet. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere.
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