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” “Certainly,” Mrs. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald.
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