C below. Moreover, he's a Yale University man, and he'd be good company. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. 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. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve.
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