Even her debt to him was a triviality now. It was from Brendon. ” She pressed her ear to the door. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. ‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. 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. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit.
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