It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. 1. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. “You are absurd,” she declared. She let him take off her skirt as she ritualistically removed his jeans along with his boxers. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child.
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