I’m not that sort I quite agree. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. 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. Jack's heart was too full to allow him to derive any pleasure from this scene; so he strolled on without raising his eyes till he arrived at Kensal Green. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway.
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