‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. Thus, more and more Ruth turned to the mongrel dog who bore the name of Rollo unflinchingly—the dog that adored her openly, shamelessly, who now without a whimper took his diurnal tubbing. "Souls," she answered, drily. ” He pulled up at the Beck’s doorstep at 1:48. Get all ready for his reception. Determined, however, not be taken with life, he held on. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. ” “What?” He asked, confused. I’m not Gerald, remember. 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. ” They eyed her incredulously.
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