"I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. His aunt, here at McClintock's? It was unbelievable. The doctor and Anna were left alone. One cannot expect that soldiers can be sympathique to one they believe may be a French spy. "It was some time before I could get him to move.
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