Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. 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. ’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. ” “It gives in a nutshell the miracle of art and the imagination. CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. Taber returning. Vorsack.
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