She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. 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. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions.
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