But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. 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. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it.
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