‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. ‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. She stared. 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. Wood. ‘I begin to ask myself why it is that I wish to become of these people.
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