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. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. ” “You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw,” Ennison said.
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