He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed. I will confide it to Father Spencer, who will acquaint you with it when I am no more. ” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. Melusine glanced towards the elderly dame and found that sharp gaze directed upon her. 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. His guardian angel warned Spurlock to speak carefully. Life is so good. C.
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