He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. Contenting himself with brandishing the weapon in the Jew's eyes, he exerted all his force to prevent him from rising. 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. His heart beat wildly and he was afraid lest the strain be too much; but the girl shook her head and smiled and pointed to the top of the mountain. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. “I believe so. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. "I have not many days,—perhaps, not many hours to live.
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