And I find I can't tell one stay from another!" McClintock laughed. Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. "You will learn anon. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. Her sister had told him that it was true. .
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