” Shari immediately commenced a strip search of her own closet, tossing on the bed a pair of tight jeans and an even tighter sweater. She must kill this man, or kill herself. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. “I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear,” said Miss Miniver. The sword, Jacques. I'm an old hand at such things. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable.
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