![]() ![]() “All sweet and sunny.” He folded the handkerchief and held it out to Ned. ![]() “She smelled like spring,” Artie said, snatching the linen and honking into it. “Do you mean she bore the fragrance of fresh air and greenery?” Ned passed him a monogrammed handkerchief. Not like the streets, like the park.” Artie raised his little paw as if to wipe his nose on the back of his wrist. “This woman smelled like horse droppings?” Lord Stephen Wentworth asked. In Ned Wentworth’s experience, cleanliness was an acquired habit for children consigned to London’s streets.Īrtie, unlike Ned himself, had taken to regular bathing with the enthusiasm of a schoolgirl shopping for hair ribbons. “And she were pretty.”Īrtie was the newest and youngest of the Wentworth bank messengers, a dark-eyed imp of indeterminate years with a curious affinity for soap and water. ![]() “She smelled like Hyde Park,” Artie said. ![]()
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