She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. “There ought to be a Censorship of Books. I know who hits hardest. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. . ToC Mrs.
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