A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. After quarter of an hour, she followed. 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. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. He was officially in the nun’s employ, but Melusine had commandeered his services immediately on the discovery that he had conceived a passion for her.
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