The only difficulties that presented themselves clearly to her were the difficulties of getting away from Morningside Park, and not the difficulties at the other end of the journey. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. For a time they walked in silence. They give themselves airs, but so it is. 1 through 1. 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. But that explains everything. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. Anna held out her hand, and he paused.
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