She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. ” She looked around for the voice around the Orchestra room, fumbling around with her books. 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. ‘You are not sympathique in the very least.
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