She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. “There have been other times,” he said a little sadly. Little by little, she stopped hating him. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. Probably a sick man's whim. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. " Sheppard started to his feet. Then she went into the office.
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