Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. ‘Not yet, madame. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell.
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