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. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. " The hint was not lost upon Wood.
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