Once before—but that had been different. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. As for me, I look twice at it. 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. There was, it might be said, a double illumination.
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