She laughed a little bitterly. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary.
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