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” “Impudent beggars,” Sydney growled. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. 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. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth.
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