Also she remembered very vividly the smell of orange blossom, and Alice, drooping and spiritless, mumbling responses, facing Doctor Ralph, while the Rev. The doctor will be here to see you in five minutes. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. “I am very much obliged for the tea,” she said. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. Until this instant, he discovered, he had thought of Melusine’s plan only in a nebulous fashion, a naïve girl’s dream.
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