\" Lucy grinned, thinking of the dark gamey odors she had smelled emanating from a few of the less hygienic boys in school. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. 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. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars.
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