“What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked. 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. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. didn’t have to. ” “I said I was all right.
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