" "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily. "Are you returning to Hong-Kong to-morrow by the day boat?" For a moment Ruth was astonished at the sound of the spinster's voice. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. He made it brief. ‘Inside, miss!’ ‘But what is it?’ ‘Quick! We need the major. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. Panting with effort, she held her point menacingly at Gosse’s chest. "What is this!" cried Sir Rowland. A pretty piece. 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. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season.
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