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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. He was snoring stupidly. The farmer was a
widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize
cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. Believe me, it will be better
by far that you should consent to marry me. Perhaps it was
loneliness. She had
discussed the general question of supplies with the helpful landlady. But it was under false names, so I dare say it ain’t valid. I’ll do it. She had maintained
a B in each subject except History, which she occasionally
felt compelled to strive for A’s in, considering she had
lived through most of it. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage
meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly
contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 30-06-2024 18:05:08