CHAPTER XXIX. 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. . The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. One went in for painting, kept straight and married old Ferringhall a week or so ago—the Lord help her. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. Later Gwen’s trouble weighed so heavily on Mrs. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced.
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