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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 should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. White, who had risen to greet her, proceeded with a formal, and from Anna’s point of view, a wholly unnecessary round of introductions.
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