But it is the truth. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form.
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