"This gentleman wants a pair of oars," said the landlord. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘No, for you had your own selfish plans already made, that is now seen. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers.
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