‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. 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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