Courtlaw stood up. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ’ Mischief overtook Melusine. The massive door was unlocked, and they entered the cell.
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