" As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. 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. . “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards.
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