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. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. The release was so great that she felt tears spring from her eyes. I want to know what you are doing; how you think this work of yours really does serve women. ” Lucy gestured to the rough plywood floor. Only au revoir. “No, no, no.
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