We sha’n’t hang up on any misunderstanding. Gerald realised Lucy had taken the hint, for she dragged her betrothed towards the door. Annabel thought, and thought again. 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.
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