Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. 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. A small voice greeted her, hissing. .
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