He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like,’ he repeated blankly. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. A medley of motives warred in her, and it was certainly not one of the least of these that she knew herself to be passionately in love with Capes; at moments she had a giddy intimation that he was beginning to feel keenly interested in her. 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.
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