Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. “I liked him, and I never undeceived him. 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. "What the devil are you about! Will you allow yourself to be beaten by a couple of kids?" "Not if I can help it," returned Abraham, making a desperate effort to regain his feet. Martin was the only person to directly address Lucy again, trying to reassure her that “real vampires melt in direct sunlight. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive. "Well?" he whispered.
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