‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. But perhaps you don't know; there was nothing in the pockets. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. Such a time that it takes for them to go. 5. ” She said, embarrassed.
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