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. I'm not noble; so my honourable ancestors will not turn over in their graves. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. I thought he was in Newgate. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. “Just seems like a nice place to get away to, especially since it seems to attract pretty girls. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle.
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