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But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. 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. The dog approached timidly, his tail going furiously. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. But we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain.
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