" "Come, come, don't take on thus, Captain," cried Blueskin, rising and walking towards him. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered.
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