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. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. ‘Imbecile. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. . ‘Comment? You have then met this Suzanne?’ The woman turned a deep red.
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