Ann Veronica thought the whole affair rather jolly. "I yield to fate. White. ” He stood looking at the preparations before them with an unusual preoccupation of manner, then roused himself to take her jacket, a little awkwardly, and hand it to the waiter who hung it in the corner of the room. 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. Capes? Well, think what it must be to live in them—soul and mind and body! It’s fun for a man to jest at our position. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H.
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