You understand what I mean. “I throw it out in passing,” he said. "I'll admit that. But I will not be engaged as ‘Alcide’ or advertised under that name. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. It was neither good nor bad. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. I've my own reasons for disliking this job. I can save you, and will.
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