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Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. Certainly I would not murder monsieur le major, even that he has made a threat to beat me. He has a grand time. I'm about to ring for supper. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires. All we have to apprehend is a rescue. 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. He was damned if he knew what to do. “I’ve got bad faults. It wound around a small manufactured lake. Re-issued with new cover October 2013.
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