She kissed him with a closed mouth, not as recklessly as she was tempted to do. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. 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.
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