At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. Wood, sharply. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. Hartford, Connecticut; she had registered that address; but there was something so mystifyingly Oriental about her that the address only thickened the haze behind which she moved. ’ Roding gave him a look of respect. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. 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 is possible, mademoiselle,” he said, “that this affair is not yet ended.
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