Explore "Some Freedom!" by Christopher Ward on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Harry Occleve, now. She knew him slightly. She despised him. Tame cat! She hated him. Beast! But he smelt nice. Yes, he did. Of peat and soap and tobacco and whisky and tweed -- always so -- of tweed, even when in evening dress. Odd!
She met him in her uncle's house. Poor calf! How she despised him -- sick fool! She had to pass him. Hateful! She trembled. Her knees shook. She hated him so. Then -- that smell! Peat, soap, tobacco, whisky and -- tweed. He in evening dress.