To be free of outward distraction, he shut his eyes and concentrated upon the scraps she had given him; and shortly, with his eyes still closed, he began to describe Ruth's island: the mountain at one end, with the ever-recurring scarves of mist drifting across the lava-scarred face; the jungle at the foot of it; the dazzling border of white sand; the sprawling store of the trader and the rotting wharf, sundrily patched with drift-wood; the native huts on the sandy floor of the palm groves; the scattered sandalwood and ebony; the screaming parakeets in the plantains; the fishing proas; the mission with its white washed walls and barren frontage; the lagoon, fringed with coco palms, now ruffled emerald, now placid sapphire. Brendon made a quick movement forward. ” With a swift movement she gained the bell and rang it. Its parents have perished. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. I don’t care WHAT happens. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. F. Drummond,” he continued, looking across at his vis-à-vis, “we look to you to give expression to our sentiments. I have suffered all this.
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