‘It looked to me as if he was playing games with Madame Valade,’ Lucilla said frankly. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. She reached for the door handle. 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. Wood, at the top of her voice. Her mind left her.
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