“Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. . "You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. " So saying, she planted herself between Jack and the turnkey. Caution forced her to speak calmly. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations.
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