But only inside, you understand, that one cannot see it. “Hello, Vee!” he said. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. ” He bit, feeling the numb desire to maul her. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. 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.
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