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Updated: June 9, 2025
"A hallucination," his thought muttered. "But the dead do not come back." The scene under the green-white street lamp played its swift detail through his mind again. He remembered the white throat, the pale, imploring face. A shudder passed his heart. He had murdered her. Yet here she stood once more, looking at him. Mallare smiled. "Ah," he thought. "Mad, completely mad.
At the east end, where the jagged black rocks met the sea, I loved to watch a great swell rise out of the level blue, heave and come, slow-lifting as if from some infinite power, to grow and climb aloft till the blue turned green and sunlight showed through, and the long, smooth crest, where the seals rode, took on a sharp edge to send wisps of spray in the wind, and, rising sheer, the whole swell, solemn and ponderous and majestic, lifted its volume one beautiful instant, then curled its shining crest and rolled in and down with a thundering, booming roar, all the curves and contours gone in a green-white seething mass that climbed the reefs and dashed itself to ruin.
In front of him were three open books and a pile of manuscript, and pushed to one side a little sheaf of pieces of green-white paper, press-cuttings of his latest book. The exact position occupied by his work in the life of such a man is not too easy to define. He earned an income by it, but he was not dependent on that income.
The others followed with mutterings and grumbles, and the women being now safe, began barricading the entrance of their house against other marauders. They were green-white with fear. They feared these Indian troops....
She pointed to a bunch of tall tropical-looking plants with great spreading leaves and big green-white stalks. "They're called Palmae Christi." "Whut?" "That's Latin. It means 'Hands of Christ," said Hale with reverence. "You see how the leaves are spread out don't they look like hands? "Not much," said June frankly. "What's Latin?"
"Boom-boom-boom-boom " But now Habib himself was the instrument, and now the old song of his race played its will on him. Pinkness began to creep over the green-white cheeks. The cadence of the chanting had changed. It grew ardent, melting, voluptuous.
From Greenland to Hatteras I've fished, and many smart seamen I've been shipmates with dory, bunk, and watch mates with in days gone by and many a grand one of 'em I've known to find his grave under the green-white ocean, but never a smarter, never an abler fisherman than your boy Arthur. Boy and man I knew him, and, boy and man, he did his work.
At the first proposal much of this tampering with the natural stuff of life will strike anyone, I think, as ugly and horrible, just as seeing a little child, green-white and still under an anaesthetic, gripped my heart much more dreadfully than the sight of the same child actively bawling with pain.
I did it slowly because I felt a little clumsy, and at the end came a moment of inspection had I forgotten any thing? And then for a few seconds I crouched before I rose, resisting the first gust of reaction against my impulse. I took thought, and for a moment that great green-white meteor overhead swam back into my conscious mind.
The park trees were heavy with rain; and rain fell still and ever in the lake, lying grey like a shield. A game of swans flew there and the water and the shore beneath were fouled with their green-white slime. They embraced softly, impelled by the grey rainy light, the wet silent trees, the shield-like witnessing lake, the swans.
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