We men are like children. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. ’ Gerald tutted. He was painfully in earnest, too. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. " "If you will not take me, I'll find some guide who will.
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