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Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her sister. "Something's wrong. Spurling, drily. 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. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. "Long life to the Marquis!" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland!" "Didn't I tell you how it would be?" remarked Quilt. " "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last.
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