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She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. " "As you will," said Jonathan, seating himself. A dissipated, loose-living man. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner.
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