“What can I do?” “Go and see her. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. 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. We fetched the doctor and the police. He pushed her small hand into his jeans. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. Perhaps she was. Well, I told aunt.
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