She moaned as he buried himself completely to the hilt. She had heard the trader utter it many times. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. In a flash, Melusine had jumped forward and clamped it to the floor with one booted foot. Charvill’s fury was burning out.
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