“Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. . " "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches. “You wouldn’t. “You too sing?” he asked. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect.
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