‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. 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. I wish they would just get it over with. "Fire! That was what drew me to you in the beginning. ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. He had chosen his time well. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue.
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