'Wednesday,the funeral, Octavia. She got out of the bath, pulled on her robe and wentdownstairs again, made herself a cup of herb tea -- her headwas spinning quite badly -- and went into the family room,to wait for Tom. 'Glasgow is a very beautiful city,' said Marianne. ''Is it?''Of course it is! My children are neglected -- apart from alittle quality time, at the fag end of the day.
'No, it's all right,' said Octavia. ''Oh, God,' she said, and buried her face in her hands. 'Tom, I just wanted to say I'm very sorry. She seemed to him what he hadbeen seeking for many years: beautiful, intelligent, charmingand -- most surprising of all perhaps -- nice.
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