There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. Gerald’s chest tightened. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. Either she had been seen, or they were seeking the 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.
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