As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. The lights rolled over, and were extinguished. He no longer made love to her, as there was no point. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. "I am here, you see," said the smith.
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