Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. Boldly he turned the knob of a certain door and entered. 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. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. Nevertheless, she was still fighting. I shouldn't talk like that. I did not want anything made smooth and easy for me. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour.
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