I wanted John to be proud to be seen with me. "Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs. 1. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears.
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