She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. \"Why not?\" Cathy continued, \"Shari is allowed to date, Lucy, and so are you. ” He looked at her very gravely. 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. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. “There is something which I must say to you. She would write to Gerald.
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