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He glanced up at the coachman. 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. If you can imagine it, I survived it. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. "O God!" he exclaimed, "I am severely punished. ” Anna nodded, and Mr.
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