She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. 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. . . ‘Come,’ she called. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. Norris, she revived a little. ‘Always he is busy about my affairs.
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