Could she go through with it? She must. Anna went out. 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. Brendon’s guests,” she said, “and I scarcely think it would be nice of me to leave him alone with Sydney.
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