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. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. I proved myself early as an athlete, skills I retained long after my return home. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs.
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