Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. 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. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. CHAPTER XVI. \" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. ‘Here you, Pottiswick.
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