” “You have not told me yet,” Annabel said, “how it is that you have dared to personate me. Why not? Quite willing. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. So that way is closed. 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 was instantly overpowered, and stretched upon the ground.
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