“Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world. But there were two places of punishment which merit some notice from their peculiarity. A cup of lies. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. It was a betrayal of God and her former family, but all in all was much easier. 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. There is the key.
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