The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. ‘And what is it you’re to rescue her from, I should like to know. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. She reflected before answering. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V.
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