’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. ‘Alors, now I am also a murderer. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. 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 was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects.
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