On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. Sheppard. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed.
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