” “But how can I help it? How can I keep silence?” “Please!” she insisted. 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. ‘You’re not going to kill me this time. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. “Every one. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be. “Oh, it is okay. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate.
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