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. “It seems—It’s interesting. ’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug. Ann Veronica decided to be more explicit. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. Now I know that you don’t live as close to the Beck house as you once pretended. ” And while he talked and watched her as he talked, she answered, and behind her listening watched and thought about him.
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