\"I'm sixteen, I'm a junior like you. I'll tell you something. 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. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. “I’m d——d if I understand this,” he said thoughtfully. You shirk a straightforward and decent return for what you get from us— taking refuge in purity and delicacy and such-like when it comes to payment. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. "I rather fancy, as you Britishers say, that you know the nature of my visit?" "I'm an American.
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