‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. ” “Oh, I might,” he answered, “have gone further still. ‘It’s a pretty name. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. Yes—as he would have liked. " "Back!" cried Rowland. Her hair was washed for her also. 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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