Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. It’s too valiant, Miss Stanley, too valiant altogether!” Ann Veronica meditated. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep. 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. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear.
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