. . The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. 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. Their faces had bite marks that were hers.
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