"Where?" she cried. These galleries were separated in the middle by iron grates. They were followed by Mr. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. He shall have the estates. 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. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her.
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