“It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. “You haven’t come here to make a lot of difficulties?” she asked. " The shock of hearing this title pronounced was equally distributed between Ruth and her husband; but it aroused two absolutely different emotions. 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. Was the man debating whether or no to tell the truth? A grimace played about Valade’s mouth and the general waited, maintaining his own rigid pose. But Jack and his companion were already gone. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. She was watching him intently.
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