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. The doctor and Anna were left alone. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house.
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