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. ’ Tears glistened in her eyes. A nurse was at the other end of the room. ” “Well, you can’t say you’re a failure there,” Lady Lescelles remarked, smiling. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet.
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