The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway.
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