"No such thing," rejoined Thames. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. ‘You keep a-hold of him,’ Trodger ordered his men. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. It will take at least three weeks. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away.
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