Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. ’ ‘Undoubtedly,’ Gerald agreed. 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. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. " "No; it is only—what shall I say?—troubled. We Spurlocks take our medicine, standing. “No,” she answered, reluctantly.
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