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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. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities. "Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home.
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