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. "Here, Bess, give me the cord, and I'll tie him to this chest of drawers. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. There's a hundred pounds too much. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. She held out her arms to him and smiled. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days.
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