She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. No, this was not reasonable. ” “But why——” Sir John stopped short. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. She was silent. “Is that plain?” she asked. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. She looked around the apartment for other people.
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