“It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. 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. It's infernally provoking. " "It wouldn't surprise me if he did," remarked Griffin. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. "Never—never!" The words were scarcely pronounced, when the door was violently thrown open, and two men appeared at it.
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