"You've been quizzing my friend Kent, I perceive, in your Burlington Gate. 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. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. They were things I had meant very much to talk to you about, so that I went home vexed and disappointed, and only relieved myself a little by writing a few verses.
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