The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Stanley changed his key. Wood's anxiety respecting the fugitive was speedily relieved by hearing another waterman busy himself in preparation for starting; and, shortly after, the dip of a second pair of oars sounded upon the river. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom.
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