“Is it your maid?” he asked. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. Teenagers don’t have any power, not of any sort, not in your world, not in the old world. 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. " "You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirely recovering his cheerfulness of look. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently.
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