She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. ” Then she fell to thinking about her aunt. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. 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. I’m glad you’re back for all sorts of reasons. Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot down upon one from the skies. Prison was beastly. I will tell you this much, because you have been kind. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one.
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