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Updated: June 15, 2025
I asked quickly. "No. I'm stopping at the hotel over in Croyden. The house will need some fixing up before it's fit to live in. I just came down tonight to look at it and took a short cut through the woods. I'm glad I did. It was worth while to see you come tramping down that long white avenue when you thought yourself alone with the silence.
The morning sunlight played in her hair, and her deep blue eyes were as soft as the Caribbean Sea itself. "Don't attempt to wade ashore, Miss Croyden," I cried in agitation. "Pray do nothing rash. The waters are simply infested with bacilli." "But how can I get ashore?" she asked, with a smile which showed all, or nearly all, of her pearl-like teeth.
Each morning I took our latitude and longitude. By this I then set my watch, cooked porridge, and picked flowers till Miss Croyden appeared. With every day the girl came forth from her habitation as a new surprise in her radiant beauty. One morning she had bound a cluster of wild arbutus about her brow. Another day she had twisted a band of convolvulus around her waist.
He rose wearily, Edith standing beside him. "What's more, Borus," he said, "I'll tell you something. This island is not uninhabited at all." "Not uninhabited!" exclaimed Clara and Edith together. I saw each of them give a rapid look at her goatskin suit. "Nonsense, Croyden," I said, "this island is one of the West Indian keys. On such a key as this the pirates used to land.
Then I seized a twisted strand of wet seaweed and landed him with it behind the ear. For a moment he staggered. Before he could recover I jumped forward, seized him by the hair, slapped his face twice and then leaped behind a rock. Looking from the side I could see that Croyden, though half dazed, was feeling round for something to throw. To my horror I saw a great stone lying ready to his hand.
Peter was a jolly little round freckled chap. He was all right when no girls were around; when they were he retired within himself like a misanthropic oyster, and was about as interesting. This was the one point upon which we always disagreed. Peter couldn't endure girls; I was devoted to them by the wholesale. The Croyden girls were pretty and vivacious.
"He had one of mine before he was burned out. How is he?" "Peter? Oh, he's well," I replied vaguely. I was thinking a hundred words to the second, but my thoughts arrived nowhere. I was staring at Miss Armstrong like a man bewitched. She must have thought me a veritable booby. "Oh, by the way can you tell me do you know a Miss Lindsay in Croyden?"
"Miss Croyden," I said, "for God's sake don't coil up in a hoop." I rushed to the beach and rubbed gravel on my face. With such activities, alternated with wild bursts of restraint, our life on the island passed as rapidly as in a dream. Had I not taken care to notch the days upon a stick and then cover the stick with tar, I could not have known the passage of the time.
With the aid of a couple of upright poles I stretched a grey blanket across the raft so as to make a complete partition. "Miss Croyden," I said, "this end of the raft is yours. Here you may sleep in peace." "How kind you are," the girl murmured. "You will be quite safe from interference," I added. "I give you my word that I will not obtrude upon you in any way."
On these occasions he was usually the guest of Lucas Croyden, an amiable worldling, who had three thousand a year and a taste for introducing impossible people to irreproachable cookery.
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