"Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. Mr. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. 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.
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