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 must be painful. “I shall never marry,” said Ann Veronica, resolutely; “I’m not the sort. I shall have to discover one suitable. But it is the truth. ‘I have no idea. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you.
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