She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. Earles watched her anxiously. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. 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.
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