Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. \" Now it was Michelle’s turn to laugh. ’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla. 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. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. “I wrote it for you. Makes you real. " "What? Good Lord, he's alive with fleas! They'll be all over the place. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. For the sort of love-making you think about. I spend many delightful hours thinking of the pleasant and beautiful things of life. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. ’ ‘I don’t, as a matter of fact,’ Gerald said decidedly, a frown creasing his brow.
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