Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. After all, why need one look down. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. And meanwhile, we’ll just have these no doubt potentially lethal little claws of yours out of harm’s way. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. . It is so ridiculous. Practically all.
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