CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. It was not a difficult affair. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. "These islands that come out of nowhere, like transparent amethyst, that deepen to sapphire, and then become thickly green! And always the white coral sand rimming them—emeralds set in pearls!" "'A thing of beauty is a joy forever!'" quoted McClintock. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her.
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