"Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. Mr. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Lucy sighed. She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. The air was crisp and dry.
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