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"
And
you
must
be
"
-
she
raised
her
eyes
from
his
professional
symbols
-
"
the
fireman
.
"
Her
voice
trailed
off
.
"
How
oddly
you
say
that
.
"
"
I
'd
-
I
'd
have
known
it
with
my
eyes
shut
,
"
she
said
,
slowly
.
"
What-the
smell
of
kerosene
?
My
wife
always
complains
,
"
he
laughed
.
"
You
never
wash
it
off
completely
.
"
"
No
,
you
do
n't
,
"
she
said
,
in
awe
.
He
felt
she
was
walking
in
a
circle
about
him
,
turning
him
end
for
end
,
shaking
him
quietly
,
and
emptying
his
pockets
,
without
once
moving
herself
.
"
Kerosene
,
"
he
said
,
because
the
silence
had
lengthened
,
"
is
nothing
but
perfume
to
me
.
"
"
Does
it
seem
like
that
,
really
?
"
"
Of
course
.
Why
not
?
"
She
gave
herself
time
to
think
of
it
.
"
I
do
n't
know
.
"
She
turned
to
face
the
sidewalk
going
toward
their
homes
.
"
Do
you
mind
if
I
walk
back
with
you
?
I
'm
Clarisse
McClellan
.
"
