She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden. " "Do what you please with him," muttered Trenchard to Wild. 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. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. Best assured of that. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features.
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