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CHAPTER V. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. Others pulled hats over their noses, cowered in their seats, and feigned that all was right with the world. I will go to-night. This lifeless appearance was heightened by the extreme sharpness of her features—especially the nose and chin,—and by the emaciation of her limbs, which was painfully distinct through her drapery. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. She walked back to the car. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. That might happen on her birthday—in August. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. 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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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 15:59:12