“Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. 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. ' He muttered it continually. Mr. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. “Martin, I don’t know what to say. “No! I want to do without that. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. They happen to a man.
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