‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. 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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