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. I don’t mind it. Wood, would preclude the possibility of his remaining with his new friends as long as his inclinations prompted. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. ” “You said you loved me – did you mean it?” He said. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour.
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