Her father was holding her waist, smiling. Sheppard. \" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical. Also he had said—laughing in that way with his eyes which made a flutter in her chest— that Prudence will find an Englishman to marry her. For a nun at night it is less dangerous than for the jeune demoiselle. “Oh, you know,” she said. 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. " "Ship her back to her father"—sagely. He waved a cordial goodbye. Maybe later. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. ‘Cover her, men. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient.
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