‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. 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. She felt she had stepped into a world of unknown usages. But this is not sufficient. You have to see her to understand. He remembered that, before he attempted to dislodge the stone, he had placed the child in a cavity of the pier, which the granite mass had been intended to fill. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. She swallowed hard. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about.
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