” “Tut!” he said, fuming, and put out his hand to the papers in the pink tape. 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 had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. “We always have things out with OUR father, poor dear!” said Hetty. "But don't ever let me see them again.
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