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. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. ‘But she will not shoot you,’ Melusine told him flatly. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. ” He paused and looked at her, and said, with a sudden drop into a confidential undertone, “Or else I want to pray. And of course! She had a brilliant idea. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. ’ Both Valade and the granddaughter gazed at him blankly.
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