“We don’t pretend. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. But with Gosse and the woman in prison here, there is always the chance that the whole affair may be raked up all over again. 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. . ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. The tired woman looked quietly at her. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause. "'The Man Who Could Not Go Home.
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