She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood.
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