She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. Brown, Lucy, and Martin Chen were at the center of the joyous horde.
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