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. "One of you fly to the market," returned Jonathan; "another to the river; a third to the New Mint. They walked in silence.
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