"But don't you smell it?"
"Sbell whadt?" said Ellie.
On the stove the automatic percolator was making small, promising noises. In the frying pan four sunnyside eggs were sizzling; half a dozen strips of bacon drained on a paper towel on the sideboard. It couldn't have looked more innocent.
Cautiously, Phillip released his nose, sniffed. The stench nearly choked him. "You mean you don't smell anything strange?"
"I did't sbell eddythig, period," said Ellie defensively.
"The coffee, the bacon—come here a minute."
She reeked—of bacon, of coffee, of burned toast, but mostly of perfume. "Did you put on any fresh perfume this morning?"
"Before breakfast? Dod't be ridiculous."
"Not even a drop?" Phillip was turning very white.
"Dot a drop."