She stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. "Sometimes a cup of lies is a cheering thing," replied the trader. 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. ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there.
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