But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. He knocked on the doorframe. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. 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. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick.
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