She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. But for him——” Something in her sister’s tone startled Anna. One has to train one’s self not to. 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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