She took up a book and threw it down again. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. 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. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. Their conversation hung. ” “And the second?” “Make love to a single woman. Instead, he was bowing to her greataunt. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. “For one thing I am going to marry David Courtlaw. Emile Gosse must know his only chance was to be rid of Melusine.
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