" "Never count your chickens till they're hatched," observed Mrs. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. 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. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. ‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from.
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