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. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. But her words were not addressed to Melusine. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. The impassivity of her features changed at last. " "I'll tell you really why I keep her in peeled paint. . "And the next time Captain Darrell wants a witness, I promise you he shan't look for one in vain.
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