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She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. "What is she saying to me?" Ah Cum shrugged. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. "But she is saying something to me! What is it?" The hotel manager, who spoke Cantonese with facility, interpreted. He knew that he could translate literally.
Fitzgerald could join certain squares of the puzzle, but this led forward scarce a step. Breitmann had entered the employ of the admiral for the very purpose for which M. Ferraud had journeyed sundrily into the cellar and beaten futilely on the chimney. It resolved to one thing, and that was the secretary had arrived too late. He was sure that Breitmann had no suspicion regarding M. Ferraud.
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.
Ruth spread out the ruffled skirt, sundrily torn and soiled. "I haven't worn anything else in weeks. I haven't touched the other." "Anything like that?" "Yes; but the colour is lavender." "Wear that to-night, then. It fits your style. You are very lovely, Ruth." She wanted to dance. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping.
Her clothes were soiled and crumpled, sundrily torn; her hair was in disorder, and tendrils hung about her temples and forehead thick black hair, full of purple tones in the sunlight for she had not surrendered peacefully to this incarceration. Dignity, that phase of philosophy which accepts quietly the inevitable, she had thrown to the winds.
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