‘I think you know my affianced husband. Please tell me what your terms are. You’re NOT to go. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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