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. "And equally easy to prove it," replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild. ‘I am entirely English. Smith. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. If he keeps his word, I'll keep mine.
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