. ” She had recognized the doorman as Sicilian immediately. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. 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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