“I am the most foolish of men. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. 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. All this was exciting and entertaining. I don’t idealize you. CHAPTER XXVII. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict.
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