“I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps.
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