He knew that he could translate literally. Paris copies London. 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. Anna said nothing. ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp.
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