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. The Chapel. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. You are not my husband. She could even think of what had happened. They stood back together and stared at it. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly.
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