McClintock's heart went out to Spurlock; he would always be the boy's friend, even though he had dragged this girl on to the rocks with him. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked.
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