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. She was a swan among geese, trying to look plain and dowdy. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. \" \"Wow. ” “That is why they hissed me, then?” “Of course. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames.
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