The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. 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. “Here, dis is for you. Her parents totally look the other way. "You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony.
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