When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate. 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. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Look at it, I say. S. She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much.
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