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. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. ‘Go you through the passage and find the other door. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it.
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