Out of the beaten track, far from the trails of men! He relaxed. 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. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink.
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