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. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. It was among artistic people. I must apologize for my young puppy of a clerk. Period trying desperately to cover her nudity with a dingy hand towel she had found lying on the floor in a corner.
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