“You love some one else?” he repeated. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. When she came to school on Friday, she almost tripped twice going up the stairs. 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. " "Then I'll lend a helping hand. " "Never," replied Winifred.
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