The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. "That's for Mrs. “So she must have had you fairly young, right?” Lucy nodded again.
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