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. ‘We were wondering about that. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him.
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