There are certain smells, certain tinges to the air. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. “Allow me,” the doctor said, “to give you a word of advice, Miss Pellissier. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. ” “You alarm me,” she murmured, smiling. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. “Remember that the man will probably die.
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