“You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. " "Devil take the key!" ejaculated Wood. 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 love some one else.
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