” “Far away?” “I have no idea,” Anna answered. 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 stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. And I don’t. She, perhaps, displayed herself rather consciously as a fine person unduly limited. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. “And if I were you I would keep away from the fire.
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