” “Gwen said she was happy. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. 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’s no good flying out at that, Vee; I didn’t arrange it. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. ‘There is little I can do at present. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. “It seems so unfair,” she said, “to take all you offer me and give so little in return. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge.
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