The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. “Nothing,” said Ann Veronica, and stared over her shoulder out of the window.
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