"Much better," said Mrs. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. "I've counted ten coffins so far. He had done it. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars.
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