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. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. For a time she furnished the flat. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt. ‘Ah, grandpére. . He is Jacques.
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