” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. He had often read about it, and once he had incorporated it in a story, that invisible force which sent men to prison and to the gallows, when a tongue controlled would have meant liberty indefinite. ‘Gone!’ he said. An old woman took her in. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. This information was received by Jonathan with a lowering brow.
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