"'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. ‘Oh, the Frenchie. Melusine glanced towards the elderly dame and found that sharp gaze directed upon her. 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. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street.
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