Anna was married. 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. I came here to beg you not to sign that contract. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm.
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