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. ‘You should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you. She closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert.
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