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. A young man turned to pay the cabman. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. ’ ‘You’re incorrigible,’ scolded Hilary, beginning to follow. She wedged the towel between her legs. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.
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