He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. I shouldn't talk like that. ” “I am sorry,” said Ann Veronica. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. She could not help herself. 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.
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