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. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. It might be three yards in width, and a few more in length; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and the waves continually broke over it. I won't have a beachcomber on the island. “It may be true, but it isn’t quite what I have in mind. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs.
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