’ ‘Melusine,’ shrieked the nun. “But if my manner tells! I cannot help it if that shows. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti. 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.
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