The Supper at Mr. But I'll tell you about him some other time. "Hold hard," cried he, addressing the waterman; "I'll give the gentleman a lift. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. ’ Mrs Sindlesham shook with laughter. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. 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. "Evidently he could not destroy these children of his. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill.
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