“I wonder how many more things Heloïse smells,” said Simon. “Let’s see, what could Chesterton’s dog Quoodle smell? Water and stone and dew and thunder…” “And Sunday morning — he was so right about that having a smell of its own,” said Simon. Oh, it is amicable being with someone who knows the poems you know! I do hope I get Simon for a brother-in-law.
