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. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. He gripped the window-sill behind him. Had he been trying to get her attention before that day, or did he simply want his silly pencil returned? \"I'm John. With people of that sort all sorts of things may happen. Melusine feigned a displeased frown. " Ruth spread out the ruffled skirt, sundrily torn and soiled. "Has no man ever kissed you?" "No. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell.
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