Mr. 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. Capes stood beside Miss Stanley, who was beaming unnaturally, and Mr. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution.
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