He had this thing for his twin daughters. My servant. 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. " "You're a damn fool, too!" exploded the trader. “Damn! Things are getting plainer. However, no one had discovered me, so I contrived to drag myself to my horse. Including the wings, it presented a frontage of five hundred and forty feet. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. “It was my sister Anna. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him.
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