She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. 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. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. “I must read him when I come out. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it.
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