Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. " Drama. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage.
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