“I’ve gotta go. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. 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. Melusine, her breath coming in short bursts, heard a sudden flurry of several heavy footsteps and harsh commands exchanged.
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