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. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. If you choose to requite me by detaining me, you are at liberty to do so. And you see, I don’t turn my back, and I am looking at you and thinking about you from top to toe. But it is not your name. " "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain.
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