’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. The south-east end of the island was hillocky, with volcanic subsoil. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting.
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