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. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. I never hunt the human tiger without being armed. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. " "Hear me, Madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs.
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