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 simile started a laugh in his throat. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. \"Oh my word, Mike. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther order, she withdrew. —Gentlemen, your most obsequious trout. Well, I am Nigel Ennison’s sister!” “Oh!” Anna said.
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