Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. " "Oh, that!" she said, with a deprecating gesture. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. Sir Rowland witnessed these proceedings like one stupified.
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