‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Fear nothing. Whenever she came upon the obliterated word and paused, her father would say: "Faith. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. 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.
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