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. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. But understand me thoroughly: I am offering you this job because my friend wants to help you. He did not love Ruth. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. The door closed softly upon her. She turned quickly. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. "Mr. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. I bring you tidings of an old friend.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 22-09-2024 21:30:49
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