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. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed.
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