‘Here she is. “This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. "Your health, Kneebone. "Or trying to be," answered the doctor. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. 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.
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