‘I find you excessively rude. She fidgeted and looked away. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. 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. Two-and-twenty! I can’t imagine what your parents can be thinking about to let you get into these scrapes. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. However, not a moment is to be lost. She would never again be lonely.
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