” Michelle adjusted her heavy pack. 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. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me. She wanted him so badly it hurt. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. “I’m not so sure.
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