The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘It is of no use to try to stop me. ” There was a long silence. "I'm your dupe no longer. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. That’s— that’s my private life. If so I shall have to leave. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt.
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