” He made his voice very low and full, and looked closely into her face. 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. She would stare if she knew the full sum of Melusine’s activities. This is the one movement that brings women of different classes together for a common purpose. . Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. It is not a dissipated face. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd.
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