” “I sent a telegram to say I was all right. Mother and Son XI. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. ‘But to do only what one wishes, it is not always convenient. 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.
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