You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. He started toward the dog with the idea of ejecting him, but Ruth intervened. 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. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Go to it.
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