The palanquin is hired and so is the procession. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. Mischief bubbled up in her. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Must be plenty of work for you to do. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still.
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