“But if my manner tells! I cannot help it if that shows. He had a wild impulse to shout. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. She glanced at him. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. She struggled not to be afraid. Small, but eminently serviceable.
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