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. Panting with effort, she held her point menacingly at Gosse’s chest. “Well, hello there. For it was not a good thing to like one man too much when one was going to marry another. "This suspense is worse than torture.
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