Hogarth," remarked Jack, dejectedly. It was wonderful. She pointed across the road. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. No good at all. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones.
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