Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. If you’ll forgive my saying that, and implying what goes with it. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. 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.
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