"To-morrow it will be mine. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. If he recovers he may not accuse her. ’ ‘How dare you?’ roared the general. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. But tell me one thing I don’t understand—tell me one thing: How can you help it by coming down into the battle and the mire? That’s the thing that concerns me. Go to your sister, and do not quit her till all is over.
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