’ ‘Oh, this is becoming nonsensical,’ exclaimed Lucilla. 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. From a man, who was standing beneath the shade of one these noble trees, information was obtained that the horsemen had ridden along the Harrow Road. He was just as much a greater master than any other I ever saw, as he was a greater judge of time and measure. And then—this sudden thrust.
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