But that Chink, Ah Cum! O'Higgins chuckled as he passed into the hall and rested his hand on the newel-post of the staircase. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. 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. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been.
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