She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. "I can't," answered Blueskin. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed.
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