The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. . The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. "On Friday," he replied. Wild's orders. " "But I've got to go!" insisted Rollo, in perfectly understandable dog-talk. She glanced into his face. I’m a female thing at bottom. I've come to take you back home.
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