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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. " "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. I don’t want you to talk to me now. " "Winny, I must go!" said Thames, breaking from her. He saw three people: a young man at the piano, an elderly man smoking in a corner, and a young woman reclining in a chair, her eyes closed. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt. . ’ A derisive snort greeted this passage.
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