At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. At any rate she must see me. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. 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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