The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. “Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. But he does not come to see me since three days, even that these are my affairs and one could think that he would tell it to me if there is news, no?’ ‘When he has news to tell he will come, child, trust me,’ the old lady assured her. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. He leaned forward to embrace her. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better.
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