"He ought to do, seeing that he served his apprenticeship in it to Mr. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. Clean water. Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. There never is much left for me. 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.
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