Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Not a word passed between them. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. " "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently.
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