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. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. As in a dream, Melusine saw her faithful footman struck, his headlong progress checked. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms.
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