“What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. 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. We quickly drew up the documentation and made living arrangements for you and I.
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