A rare moment of amusement lightened Melusine’s mood for a moment. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. Then the girl was heading past the inn and Roding marched down to confront her. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. 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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