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 didn’t choose her man. “Sorry to be so terribly rude, Martin. A woman was born to have children, particularly male children. I offer you my assistance on certain terms. Besides, he was a Yale man.
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