She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago.
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