Then he sensed the trap. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. ” The dinner was admirable as a dinner; nothing went wrong, from the golden and excellent clear soup to the delightful iced marrons and cream; and Miss Stanley’s praises died away to an appreciative acquiescence. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. CHAPTER XVII.
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