The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr. “How would you prevent it?” she asked.
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