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 looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing. She fell into another depression, refusing to touch Sebastian or call him husband when he demanded it. “Poor old Alice!” Her brother Roddy came to her and demanded tea, and asked her to state a case. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock. A woman cannot change her soul.
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