Plote was sleeping or deaf. "Come Bess,—no whimpering. 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 girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the window. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room.
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