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 was radiant. . She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. \"What's in there?\" Lucy asked. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. This was unscrupulous, he admitted, because he had no intention of following through on the seductive promise in his conduct. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. \"I don't eat lunch. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west. Living’s just material.
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