Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. Her sister’s words were true. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. "But, pardon my intrusion. “Aren’t we all just odds and ends of humanity —the left-overs, you know. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars.
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