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. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. But we're neglecting the punch all this time. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. It's almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye—even that of Jonathan Wild who had come thither to deride him,—was fixed upon him.
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