" "What?" said the doctor, whose thoughts were in something of a turmoil. 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. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. I'm hungry. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. He looked the boy over with interest.
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