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. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. ” “McCloskey.
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