"Quick. “I don’t think I shall. ” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. In fact, Mr. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. 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.
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