She acted as her mother had taught her to. 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. ’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room.
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