Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. She felt very awkward as she stared at 103 the top of his ashen hair. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it.
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