She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. 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. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. Ramage,” she said, clinging to her one point, “I want to get out of this horrible little room. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. "You've arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland," observed the thief-taker.
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