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In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. "She was mine before you ever saw her. 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 would believe that life is kindled by the passions alone. "You are not. ” “Surely,” he protested, “the change is all in favour of your own inclinations. "You two … both of you! But for you I couldn't have done it. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. He could not tell whether she was English or American. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. Turning, she flew for the nearest door.
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