The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘Come,’ she called. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. In fact, I order you to do so. He's young and sound. ‘But there is something still I do not understand. As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard.
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