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. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. ’ ‘Yes, I know,’ Gerald put in with an irrepresssible chuckle. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face.
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