Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. I didn’t understand before that letter. “We’re going to be found out someday. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us.
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