The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. "They imagine their work is done. A hundred pounds to the man who takes him. Anyhow, ten minutes after I get to work I'll be rumpling it. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Get the pole out of your ass. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. ’ She moved quickly to the nearest bookcase, and listened intently to the sound of Jack’s voice.
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