I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill.
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