” Anna had reached the house where she lodged, but she hesitated on the doorstep. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Never had her father explained. The air was crisp and dry. That would be an unkind twist of fate. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. Ennison?” Sir John hesitated.
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