" "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. ” She said in Lucy’s direction. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. 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. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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