” “Well, tell me. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. 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. “We will see that he doesn’t follow you. ” “I positively insist upon knowing,” she declared cheerfully. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared.
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