Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. “These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. 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. First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane.
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