"I was going to die, Hoddy!" she whispered. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. But supposing he is? Supposing he made but one misstep? Your island would be a haven of security. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. "The feeling is dead within my breast. ” “Cooped up!” he cried. He is in Newgate. 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. " As he said this, a slight noise was heard without. ’ Gerald suppressed a grin. But I shall take care of Ruth, work for her and fight for her. ” The official had no more to say.
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