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. "I'm armed; you are not. The world isn’t ready for girls to start out on their own yet; that’s the plain fact of the case. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river.
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