She is no longer mine; she is yours. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. E. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. ” “You and I and Brendon get on all right, don’t we?” Sydney objected. However good you were to me, and however happy I was in other ways, I should find this intolerable. In the next box hangs the rope by which he suffered. ’ ‘In a way she had been,’ said Prudence. . He began to think of speeches, very firm, explicit speeches, he would make. 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. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased.
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