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. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. ” “That’s why, in a way, I’m prudish. ’ ‘Can’t say as I’m sorry to hear you say that, missie,’ confessed the sergeant, on a relieved note, as he locked the front door of the mansion and pocketed the key. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. It wasn’t pretty.
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