He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. He has a heart that is easily broken. 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. She saw how overworked he was. Winifred receives two Proposals. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. We can’t. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. “I get that a lot. He would have to probe further. He hated to destroy it; but that was the obligation imposed; and he was an honourable man. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt.
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