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 admitted that it would bore him to dally here in Canton, with the pleasures of Hong-Kong so close. He knew me, Nigel. There was no one to be seen. He spoke English with astonishing facility and with a purity which often embarrassed his tourists. .
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