“Why?” he asked, suavely. Then a hansom drove up, and his heart gave a great leap. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. 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. \" Michelle met her at her locker, right on schedule, carrying a backpack so overstuffed it was its own conversation piece.
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