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The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. I am dreadfully sad. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London. "You see?" Ruth said.

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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 13-06-2024 19:50:33

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