She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. It could not go on much longer, her luck. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky.
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