"I am coming to the point, Joan. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. ” She 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. I don’t want you to be sad.
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