“You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. 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. “Your house is so huge. Consider you’ve got resources deposited with me. Go off and live together—until we can marry.
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