’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like,’ he repeated blankly. 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 want to show you something. He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times.
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