" "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. With this view, he descended the hill and presently found a footpath leading to the church. Valade accorded the major’s greeting a brief nod and gave his attention back to St Erme. 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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