Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. “I believe that I can give you great news. "The natives have foolish ways of saying things. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. 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. He held her eyes. ’ The sharp eyes twinkled. The man is a stranger to me.
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