Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. 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. “A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. "I guessed what was coming. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said.
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