She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. He could have easily forced it, but preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which suggested itself to him. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. Accompanied by Sir Cecil, who still continued passionately enamoured of his sister, and to whom he represented that she had fallen a victim to the arts of a seducer, he set off, at fiery speed, for the metropolis. In worldly matters Gay was not fortunate. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance.
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