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 haven't worn anything else in weeks. ’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. I think I know where I am puzzling you now——” “Then for Heaven’s sake be merciful,” he exclaimed.
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