“Bother it all!” she swore. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. " "Is the sloop ready to sail?" asked Wild, without noticing the skipper's remark. ” “How absurd!” Annabel declared. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this. I am a man—of a sort of experience. Something in his tone pinched her heart.
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