” She answered solemnly. 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. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. Never any doubt of it. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. The one I have is a duplicate.
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