We'll have him yet. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. He was there concealed, waiting her return. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. 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 may yet be saved. Why, is the question I would like answered. Even the stars were strangers.
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