‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. 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. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. At the bottom of the trunk I found two of my mother's dresses.
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