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. ” “Not for you?” “No. " "Well, imagination beats me!" "It's something Ruth saw. The tired woman looked quietly at her. "How so?" asked Wild, curiously.
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