She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. Only I do not care to write about anything else. It depresses one, you know. Fetter Lane, on the left, Gray's Inn, on the right, added their supplies. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well.
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