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. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. ” Ann Veronica reflected.
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