‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud. Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. 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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