” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. Wood's. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. "Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars.
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