But it is my fault. I didn’t betray you, I swear I didn’t. 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. ” Anna glanced towards her sister, but the latter avoided her eyes. ” “It is,” he replied, “the one humiliation of my life. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. An Englishwoman. I am not boring you, am I?” She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face.
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