"Don't ask me about it now. "I opened the padlock with this crooked nail, which I found in the floor. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. 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. “It is just a look.
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