He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. . “About two years ago.
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