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 merely mention these circumstances to show the accuracy of my information. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. "Dare to disobey," continued Jonathan: "neglect my orders, and I will hang you. You will be—my wife. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically.
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