175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. But she was not to be tempted. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. Spurlock began to watch for Ruth's coming in the morning; first, with negligent interest, then with positive eagerness. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. ‘You don’t even know what it means, do you?’ Melusine frowned.
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