The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. ‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet.
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