"Bring the light, Nab. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. ” She let him make love to her that night. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. His eyes were closed. She did her best to do this. ’ Authority had won again, Gerald thought with satisfaction. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. Get pen and paper for the missie. 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.
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