Sebastian observed coolly, savoring the outline of Lucy’s feral figure hunching over Michelle’s gradually diminishing body. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. 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. "Are you not content with the crimes you have committed, —but you must carry your villany to this point. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. "Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable.
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