“Didn’t you just get over an ear infection not two weeks ago? You’re asking for another one. I’m a hard young woman. ” “Yeah, they seem so nice. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. But here the resemblance stopped. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene.
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