Do help me, Lady Ferringhall. "What about it?" "Enschede. 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. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads.
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