It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. It drives one mad at times. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. 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. “Isn’t the question more complicated than that?” said Ann Veronica. “Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago.
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