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. But, as this produced no effect, and did not even elicit a groan, the prisoner was carried back to Newgate. ‘You’re right. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him.
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