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. ‘Never fear, my love. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. Drawing the pay of life and then not living.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 15:40:40