" "So I've found out the way to move her," thought the carpenter; "those tears will do her some good, at all events. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. He cocked an eyebrow. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner.
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