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. CHAPTER I. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. ” “Do you mean,” Courtlaw asked, “that from now to the end of the six months you do not wish to see us—any of us?” Her eyes were a little dim again. Michelle waved to her, then flitted over to where she was sitting. . ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light.
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