‘But I am perfectly serious,’ he returned in a voice of protest. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. 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. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled.
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