. 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. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. He was not a sailor. It seemed to her in her restored geniality that she liked Manning extremely.
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