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She longed to enjoy human food as he did. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. 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. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. ” Lucy put her hand to her heart and pulled one of her kinky curls straight.
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