Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. 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.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 14-08-2024 17:07:56
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