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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. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. Of you, I mean. I can save you, and will. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side.
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