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. ” He said to her, quite unsure of whether or not he was dreaming. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. “Ciao. I have said that I am but a nun now. Take it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it.
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