Something funny about her that was alluring but also vaguely disturbing. Was there a whiff of putrefication lurking under her perfume? Or was that just the smell of the city? Her eyebrows were a bit dark and heavy. She refused to tell him where she was going when she went out late at night. She was sitting in the sun, writing in a little fuzzy purple diary, and he noticed, for the first time in their 10-year marriage, that she was left-handed.