The window was closed and the room smelt musty.

But because no one ever went in there the room smelt less of actual smoke than any other part of the house.

The room smelted of dust and mold, and the books had gone for far too long without feeling the touch of a human hand.

For a moment the room smelted of lemons, and then it simply smelled as if something was burning.

The room smelted antiseptic, as if the furniture had just been unpacked or sprayed with disinfectant.

The room smelt like the crypt of a church.

The room smelt horribly of burnt rubber, but it had done the trick.

The room smelt airless and damp, like a place where tomatoes have been grown.

The room smelt musky and damp, but I did not care.