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. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. The great heart of the world beats only where men and women are gathered together. It’s no good hiding it any more. I am betrothed to Captain Roding, which is why you can’t have him, you see.
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