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. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. So you are Prudence Remenham. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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