‘Am I right in supposing you to have been a sister to the late Mr Jarvis Remenham?’ ‘Quite right. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. "How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought.
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