Mr. 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. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. How could he have betrayed her so cruelly? How could he lie and claim her as dead? Sebastian studied her carefully as she refused to cry and became like a pillar of stone. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. She tried to be casual. ” There was a strange look in her face, the look of a frightened child. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year.
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