We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. " Jonathan made no reply, but ordered his myrmidons to drag the prisoner along. 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. His figure was uncommonly slim even for his age, which could not be more than thirteen; and the looseness of his garb made him appear thinner than he was in reality. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire.
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