The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. A question next arose whether the prisoner could be executed under the existing warrant,—some inclining to one opinion, some to another. He stood transfixed. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. So completely! The oddest fitness! What is it made of? Texture of skin and texture of mind? Complexion and voice.
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