For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. She approached Ruth with open arms; and something in the way the child came into that kindly embrace hurt the older woman to the point of tears. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead.
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