She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. ‘No!’ Melusine snapped as he tugged at the thing. “Lucy Albert. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. 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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