They were terrible, horrible people. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. He roused curiosities. Melusine ran to catch at his arm. Oh, cuss it!” “Eh?” “He said I would. "Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. ’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. The action did not pass unnoticed by Sheppard. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side.
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