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. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. " CHAPTER XIII. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. And if you treat me in this way, you will have my death to answer for, as well as the deaths of my husband and child. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. ” “Bit starchy,” said Ann Veronica, and altered the key abruptly. “I am a fool,” he said. Not if I read her aright. That was an admission all right. “You have been very kind to me,” she said. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. Annabel shook her head.
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