“The sooner you tell me the better. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. It is her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. No; she'd never go back. 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. ‘How is this? Proo-den-ss. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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