Jack and his comrade went to the Mint, where he was joined by Edgeworth Bess, with whom he sat down most unconcernedly to supper. "Then, the story of his death was false. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. "Come away!" he cried, with the roar of a demon. His body went limp, and as he withdrew she ironically found herself at the doorway for the first time in her life of being truly aroused. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. 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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