He could not doubt it. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. 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. "Heed her not.
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